


Trapped between Madonna and the Solar System.

by MorganeUK



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, BAMF Greg Lestrade, BAMF Mrs. Hudson, Complicated Relationships, Episode Fix-It: s03e03 His Last Vow, Eventual Fluff, Evil Mary Morstan, F/M, Gen, M/M, Nice Mary Morstan, Pressure point, Protective Greg, Protective Mycroft, Season 3 episode 3 alternative, Sherlock's Mind Palace, What-If, maybe not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganeUK/pseuds/MorganeUK
Summary: What would happen if Sherlock forgot John after the wedding?More like a 'I-don't-know-who-the-f*-you-are' / not even in the Mind Palace forgotten...Basically an alternate version of "His Last Vow"... but is there a last vow if Sherlock do not recall having made one to John & Mary?





	1. Post-wedding cleaning

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language, not even my day-to-day one, so many many thanks to [notjustmom](http://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom/). You're the best!
> 
> Sherlock characters are created and owned by the BBC & Conan Doyle and I do not claim any ownership over them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the wedding, Sherlock is trying to put his mind at rest.

The battle is over. Sherlock removes his morning suit. Puts it back in the garment bag. Places the bag in his wardrobe. Closes the door of the wardrobe then the door of his bedroom.  
  
Sitting in the leather chair that was in front of John's, he watches carefully around him. Why can everything look exactly the same when the world as he knows it just crumbled under his feet? The wedding decorations, invitations, and other samples are still scattered around the living room. He should put that away. Put everything related to this day away. The day where he had to be the bravest version of himself. The day he gave his best friend, the love of his life, to someone else...  
  
Lost in is thought he didn't realize he wasn't alone anymore before a soft "Sherlock" was spoken. Opening his eyes the detective looks at his brother.   
  
"What are you doing here?" Sherlock turns to the unlit fireplace wanting to avoid the scrutiny of Mycroft's gaze.   
  
"Do I need a reason to talk to you brother dear?" The older man says. After a pause, he added "The wedding was satisfactory? I heard that you caught a killer... I am now sorry that I refused the invitation" Mycroft added with a little laugh.  
  
"I'm alright, there's no need to babysit me. As you told me when I returned, why should I expect John to just sit in his chair and wait for me in case I wasn't truly dead? I am not that selfish and I am really happy for my friend to have found love and happiness."  
  
Mycroft looks at his little brother with eyes full of compassion and understanding. After a quick survey of the room he comments, "I can have someone get rid of all that if you want?" waving his hands towards the napkins and the other wedding stuff.  
  
"No it's ok, I'll talk with Mary after the honeymoon to be certain that she doesn't want to keep anything then I will throw it all away. It can stay here for 2 weeks, I don't mind. Now. Just go, please. I want to be alone... Don't worry it's not a danger night."   
  
"You know that I worry about you constantly, it's one of my few hobbies. I will send someone right away to at least store everything somewhere out of sight. Please inform John to contact me at his return."  
  
"Yes, yes I will," the detective says already leaving for his Mind Palace, "I just need some alone time after the last few weeks and everything will be fine. I could do with a little clean-up of my Mind Palace with all of those stupid serviette videos!"  
  
"Ok. But don't forget that I am always there for you and will always be."  
  
"Stop being so dramatic it doesn't suit you Mycroft. Bye and say hello to the Queen." he replied absentminded while his brother left the flat to asks Anthea to clean up the apartment of everything linked to the wedding.  
  
Once more alone, Sherlock put his hands under his chin, closes his eyes and open the door of his mind. Once more into the breach as that old Shakespeare said... Archives of most violent criminals. Keep. List of all the boroughs, streets and alleyways of London. Keep. Redbeard is definitively staying. Let's keep the door of the 2 years chasing Moriarty's gang closed for now. There. John's room. Everything happens so quickly since his return that he lazily put Mary's stuff in his blogger's room. He opens the door slowly, not certain of what was inside. John is always so present in his mind that he almost never needs to check details in his Palace. Because if Sherlock's brain is a computer, then John's details are in the RAM and not the hard drive that is his Mind Palace!  
  
The first thing that appears to him inside the doctor room was Mary. Mary with a confident, nearly cocky smile. Like a permanent proof that she won. He quickly dismisses her in search of wedding planning stuff but keeps seeing Mary. She's everywhere, like if she wants to keep him away from her husband. He's the master of his Mind Palace! Sherlock virtually takes Mary's hand and pushes her into oblivion not wanting any part of her in his head. But the virtual Mary is as stubborn as the real one and she takes John's arm, not wanting to let go. With a devious smile, she pushes him with her in the deep of Sherlock's _oubliette_. Putting her John safely away from Sherlock, forever trapped between Madonna and the Solar System.  
  
Sherlock wakes from his self-induced trance a few hours later with a deep feeling of uneasiness. Like if something was missing, like an unsolved problem.    



	2. An unexpected (high) surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One month after the wedding, John and Sherlock are together for the first time, but not as John was expected!

"What a blessing to sleep without being wakened by a madman."  _Even if it was more thrilling_ , John thought silently feeling a bit guilty. 

"You should go to Baker Street today, honey, I'm certain that Sherlock needs help with something!" Mary shouts from the first floor.

John smiles, thinking for the thousandth time how lucky he is and how well Mary knows him.  He really found the perfect woman.  He turns his head back in the pillow when someone knocks at the front door.  

Putting rapidly some clothes he goes down and finds their neighbour, Kate, crying in the arms of Mary. 

"What's wrong?"

"It’s Isaac, her son. He’s gone missing again. Didn’t come home last night."

"He’s the drug one, yeah?"

"Er, yeah, nicely put, John."

"Look, is it Sherlock Holmes you want? Because I’ve not seen him in ages." John adds with a sad face.

"About a month." Mary add. 

Kate refreshingly asks, "Who’s Sherlock Holmes?" 

"See? That does happen." Mary says to John with a little smile.

Still crying, Kate explains "There’s a – a place they all go to, him and his ... friends. They all ... do whatever they do ... shoot up, whatever you call it."

"Where is he?" John interrupts.

"It’s a house. It’s a dump. I mean, it’s practically falling down."

"No, the address. Where, exactly?"

 

Later, John and Mary's car stops before the address Kate gave them, a decrepit house in a bad borough. John opens the boot to get a tire lever, in case of... whatever. Mary laughs at the view of her husband who defiantly put the lever in his jeans.

"What! There are loads of smack heads in there, and one of them might need help with a tire. If there’s any trouble, just go. I’ll be fine." then he walks toward the house.

"John, John, John, John!" Mary calls, "It is a tiny bit sexy."

"Yeah, I know."

 

Once inside, the place is even more totally waste... the paint is peeling from the wall, rubbish everywhere. After a little "discussion" with the young man in charge of the security of the den, John walks with a spring back in his legs. It's not that being a GP is not enough, but it's good to go back to a more physical approach to conflict resolution, the doctor verbalizes to himself.  _I should really contact Sherlock and go on a case, or two, or three, with him! Before the baby arrives._

Upstairs he finds a big room, far too many people in it (God, most of them are only kids!) and cautiously calls out "Isaac? Isaac Whitney?"  At the end of the room he finally finds the young man. 

"Isaac?...  Hello, mate. Sit up for me? Sit up." He helps him and checks quickly for his vital signs.  The boy is high as a kite but otherwise unharmed.

"Doctor Watson?" Isaac voice is ragged and sleepy. "Where am I?"

"The arse-end of the universe with the scum of the Earth. Look at me."

"Have you come for me?"

"D’you think I know a lot of people here?" Isaac tries to laugh but he's too far gone.

"Hey, all right?" The doctor asks before helping the junkie to rise to leave that damn place.  A familiar face caught his eyes and his heart falls before the anger replaces any other emotions. "What the hell... Sherlock!" 

 

A few minutes later, Isaac walks outside to reach Mary who is waiting in the car. 

"Hello, Isaac."

"Mrs. Watson, can I – can I get in, please?"

"Yes, of course, get in. Where’s John?"

"They’re having a fight."

"Who is?"

At that moment, the door of the fire escape is open furiously by John's foot, while he maintains a screaming detective by his (now tied) arms.

 

"For God’s sakes, let me go. You've got no idea of the trouble you're going to be if you don't release me at once!" Sherlock was yelling.  _God the bastard really knows how to knots a rope, was he in the Navy? No... not the Navy. The army. Army doctor most certainly. Not important right now, focus Sherlock!_

"A month – that’s all it took. One. Sherlock Holmes in a drug den! How’s that going to look?"

"I’m working. I’m undercover. You're blowing everything, you idiot. Ouch!!!! Stop pulling my arms like that, you nutter! Does Mycroft pay you to ruin everything? If so tell my brother to go fu..." 

Mary interrupts before any more profanity is unleashed. "In. Both of you, quickly."

"I'm not going anywhere with a crazy ex-soldier and a woman in pajamas! What is it, your life isn’t interesting enough; you've got to butt into things you can't understand? LET ME GO!! I won't let you ruin everything by kidnapping me!" 

"You know exactly where we are going. Don't be so paranoid!" He pushes Sherlock in the back seat of the car, but the tall man resists with all of his strength, even with the disadvantage of having both hands ties together. The doctor, starting to become more and more impatient toward his friend, lets go a "God damn it, Sherlock, even if I have to knock you out, YOU WILL GO TO BART'S!"

"Bart's...?"  _Better not to argue with a madman... armed with a tire lever.  This is ridiculous, please please do not let Lestrade hear about this or the whole NSY will snicker at me for months!_ "Why do you want to go to Bart's?"

"I’m calling Molly. Because you, Sherlock Holmes, need to pee in a jar." 

"Wait... You are calling Molly?"  _Who's this man and how does he know the_ _personal phone number of Molly Hooper?_

  

John took the opportunity of the detective's shock to unceremoniously push him on the seat and promptly buckle the lanky git into the car.


	3. Aren't you too old to be member of a fan-club?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatttt? Sherlock with a girlfriend?

 At the back of the car, Sherlock is fuming!  _How can his brother - it's got to be Mycroft! - had the nerve to interfere in his life like this! I'm not a child and anyway if he wanted to save me so badly he could have arrived sooner in Serbia. Oh God, I stink... The day can't possibly get any worse!_

  

In the front of the car, John and Mary were discussing the situation as discretely as possible.

"One month, Mary, it took only one month for him to go back to... GOD I'm furious, I can't believe it, what a waste. I should have seen it coming and..."

"It's not your fault, he's a grown man. You can be responsible for all his actions... Maybe it's not what you're thinking. He talked about what? Undercover work? Maybe he's not that high, wait for Molly before making assumptions."

John looks at Mary with a "are you serious?" expression.  _He's a bloody doctor and she's a nurse. Sherlock was high as a fucking kite, no doubt about it._  "Yeah, let's wait for Molly" he says with an unconvinced tone. 

"Could you please stop talking about me as if I was deaf?" Sherlock shouts from the backseat, still energetically trying to untie his arms to be able to remove the security belt and get out of this damn car. "Hey, you idiot! Where's my phone? Give it to me! I don't know why you are in charge, soldier usually only good for following orders. I certainly hope for you, madam, that you're not planning to have a baby with him because..." At these words, John turns around and tries to knock some sense into Sherlock but wasn’t able to touch him because the bastard had scooted as far from John as possible. "Don’t act like you can do anything that you want with ME! I'm fully here you know!" the detective shouts.

Yeah, we know... that's the problem. John replies silently disgusted by his friend's attitude but still trying to act like a doctor should in front of an intoxicated patient.  _It's not personal, it's not personal, it's not personal_ he repeats to himself as a mantra _..._

They leave Isaac to his mom and go directly to the hospital after, the sooner this ridiculous situation is over the better. 

 

In the lab, Molly is finishing the analysis on Sherlock's sample. Only the soothing but 'business as usual' presence of Molly makes it possible for Sherlock to calm down enough to cooperate.  _Asking ME to get out of the washroom but being ok with Molly! I can't believe it! I'm his bloody doctor._  John mutters to himself.  _Or at least, I was... He trusts her far more than me._   _It's true that MOLLY was part of the big scheme while I was pushed away like a liability._

Sherlock is standing as far away as possible from John and Mary and mumbling "The man refuses to give back my phone, it's inconceivable! Why are they still there, can't they just go away? This is none of their business... Molly, could I use your phone?" the last words are spoken louder but still only for the woman's benefit. She puts her phone away in her lab coat and looks at John.

"Well? Is he clean?" John asks, certain of the result anyway but still hoping for a miracle.  _I never so wanted to be wrong._

"Clean?" Molly explodes as she walks to stand in front of Sherlock. 

To the surprise of everyone, she slaps the tall man hard. A few times. The man makes a face but says nothing. "How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with? And how dare you betray the love of your friends? Say you’re sorry."

"Sorry your engagement’s over – though I’m fairly grateful for the lack of a ring. But I don't think Lestrade or Mrs.Hudson will feel betrayed if they learn about this. They both have seen me in far worse shape and will know that this is a controlled usage. And you... you should know better... I was undercover for God sakes!" 

"Stop it. Just stop it. You know we all care about you so much!" Molly insists, nearly crying.

John pulled Sherlock aside to try to put some sense in the man. "If you were anywhere near this kind of thing again, you could have called someone." _You could have talked to me. Even if you don't consider me on your select list of friends apparently..._

The tall man looks at him with a hint of distaste in the eyes. "Please do relax. This is all for a case. Give me back my phone and tell Mycroft to back off, I don't need a babysitter or a bodyguard." 

"All that for a case?" he gives the phone back to Sherlock, there's no point keeping it now, "What kind of case would need you doing this?"

"You won't understand, it's far from your league. If you want to play mind games I might as well ask you why you’ve started cycling to your unsatisfactory workplace." 

"No. We’re not playing this game." John says, walking away and shaking his head at the nerve of Sherlock.

"Quite recently, I’d say. You’re very determined about it."

"Not. Interested."

Looking at his phone, Sherlock exclaims. "Ah! Finally! Oh, excellent news – the best. There’s every chance that my drug habit might hit the newspapers. The game is on." He heads for the door with a wave of the hand and a "See you later Molly!". As if the others two weren’t in the laboratory. "He's not going anywhere alone in this condition. Not if I can stop him!" John kisses his wife rapidly and starts running after the madman after a reassuring glance to Molly.

  

In the taxi, Sherlock focuses solely on his phone, taping rapidly. At a light, he raises his head and looks to his right, and realizes with astonishment that the strange man that keeps interfering is beside him. 

"Hang on – what are you doing there. And weren’t there other people? A woman?"

"I’m taking you home. We did discuss it." In fact, John simply followed a distracted Sherlock in his taxi without saying anything. 

"I must have filtered. I have to filter out a lot of witless babble. I’ve got Mrs. Hudson, my landlady, on semi-permanent mute."

Not stating the fact that he  _knows_  who Mrs Hudson is, John studies his former flatmate as discreetly as possible.  _What's wrong with him? Drugs may change how the mind thinks, cause paranoia... But how come he reacts like this only to Mary and me... What have we done? What went wrong since the wedding? The last time we talked was... at the reception.  Have I really not talk to him in a month? My best friend?_ Culpability was slowly replacing anger.  _What can be done now, not much. It's no use to talk to him as long as he's high anyway._

The car stops in front of 221b, "What is my brother doing here?" the detective explodes getting out of the cab.

"So I’ll just pay, then, shall I?"

"Put it on your expense account, I'm certain the government won't fuss for 10 pounds."

Before John can scream a "What's your bloody problem Sherlock!" the door opens to reveal Mycroft. The man, who was sitting on the stairs, puts a slight smile on his face before he says "Well, then, Sherlock. Back on the sauce?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I phoned him. ’Course I bloody phoned him." John explains. 

"Of course, part of the job. How does it feels to be a sniffing dog, probably wasn't your aspiration when you left Afghanistan!" 

Mycroft interrupts, not liking the direction of the conversation. What's wrong with his brother? "’Course he bloody phones me. Now, save me a little time. Where should we be looking?"

"We?" Sherlock responds before then hears voices upstairs.  _That voice... Anderson!_

"Mr. Holmes?" Anderson asked while opening and closing all the cupboards in the kitchen.

"For God’s sake! Get out of my kitchen!" Sherlock shouts before throwing himself in his chair to sulk.

"I’m sorry, Sherlock. It’s for your own good. Hello Doctor Watson." he replies with an apologetic gesture.

Mycroft follows his brother into the apartment. "Some members of your little fan club. Do be polite. They’re entirely trustworthy and even willing to search through the toxic waste dump that you are pleased to call a flat. You’re a celebrity these days, Sherlock. You can’t afford a drug habit."

Sherlock jumps from his chair to scrutinize John who is talking with Anderson. "Is this what you are finally, a groupie? Aren't you too old to be a member of a fan club?" Looking to his brother he adds "I do not have a drug habit! Get out!"

The doctor's attention is focused on his missing chair in the lounge, so he does not hear the detective's outburst. Turning toward Sherlock, he asks "Hey, why only one chair? The place is big enough for two..."

"It was not useful and blocking my view to the kitchen." Sherlock snarls.

Hurt by the comment, John muttered to Mycroft "Well, it’s good to be missed!"

"Anderson, what have you found so far? Clearly nothing. But... Your bedroom door is shut."

Sherlock let go a profound sigh,  _no chance he misses that!_

"You haven’t been home all night. So, why would a man who has never knowingly closed the door without the direct orders of his mother bother to do so on this occasion?"

He walks to the bedroom and puts his hand on the knob waiting for a reaction from Sherlock. "Okay, stop! Just stop. Point made."

John stares at his friend "Jesus, Sherlock!" 

"Have to phone our parents, of course, in Oklahoma. Won’t be the first time that your substance abuse has wreaked havoc with their line-dancing." 

"This is not what you think. This is for a case."

"What case could possibly justify this?" Mycroft asks. 

"Magnussen. Charles Augustus Magnussen."

Looking to Anderson and the woman that was with him with a dark gaze, Mycroft declares, "That name you think you may have just heard – you were mistaken. If you ever mention hearing that name in this room, in this context, I guarantee you – on behalf of the British security services – that materials will be found on your computer hard drives resulting in your immediate incarceration. Don’t reply – just look frightened and scuttle."

They both leave as quickly as possible and close the door of the flat. 

Sherlock opens the door and scream in the stairway "Anderson! You've forgotten someone." motioning his hand to John who (asking help to all the deity he can think of) merely rolls his eyes at Sherlock's inconsiderate words. _God, I need a pint!_

Mycroft looking strangely to his brother, moves where John is standing and slowly adds, "I hope I won’t have to threaten you as well."

"Well, I think we’d both find that embarrassing." John chuckles.

Sherlock let go a little laugh, looking at the ex-army-doctor with a new appreciation.

"Magnussen is not your business, brother"

"Oh, you mean he’s yours, Mycroft."

"You may consider him under my protection. If you go against Magnussen, then you will find yourself going against me."

"Okay. I’ll let you know if I notice." He walks back to the door "Hum, what was I going to say? Oh, yeah. Bye-bye."

He opens the door widely for Mycroft.  Before he leaves, the older Holmes faces Sherlock one more time to profess a menacing "Unwise, brother mine."

Not realizing the degree of exasperation of his brother, Mycroft found himself slammed on the wall with one of his arm twist forcefully under his back. 

"Brother mine; don’t appall me when I’m high."

John runs to the brothers quickly. "Mycroft, don’t say another word. Just go. He could snap you in two, and right now I am slightly worried that he might. Don’t speak. Just leave."

The minor government official lefts the two men together and nearly run down the stairs.

"Magnussen?" John asks hoping that being alone with the detective may help to sort out all this awkwardness.

"You're still there? You'll never give up aren't you?"  _or maybe not,_  John sighs internally.

"I’m meeting him in three hours. I need a bath. Just leave or I will have to call NYS on you for trespass and harassment." Sherlock declares to the short blond man who remains exactly where he was without any movement toward the exit.

"It’s for a case, you said? What sort of case?" 

Frowning in exasperation, but curiously and strangely happy to have someone to talk too, Sherlock affirms with an irritate voice "Too big and dangerous for any sane individual to get involved in."

"You trying to put me off?

The detective stops in front of the bathroom and turns to check the man who has been intruding in his life since the morning.  _Ex-army, sergeant or captain. Doctor. Husband. Choleric. Not as idiotic as the others. Courageous. Reckless. Loves the danger. Sassy. Not afraid of Mycroft whatever the connection is between them. Loyal..._

"God, no. Trying to recruit you." the detective says before closing the door behind him with a crooked smile.

John lets go of a breath he doesn’t realize he was keeping and walks around the flat, waiting for Sherlock.  _A case. A case is good; if something can put everything right it is a case!_

The door of the bedroom open quietly, turning on his feet John stares with incredulity as Janine walks out of the detective's private room. Janine. Mary's friend.  _What the bloody hell, this day will never end!_

"Oh, John, hi." she laughs; trying to pull down a bit the shirt (Sherlock's!) she was wearing. "How are you?"

"Janine?" 

"Sorry. Not dressed. Has everybody gone? I heard shouting."

"Yes, they’re gone." The wonder still tainted John's voice.

"God, look at the time. I’ll be late. Sounded like an argument. Was it Mike? They’re always fighting. Oh, could you be a love and put some coffee on?"

"... Sure, right, yeah."

"Thanks." She lefts for the bedroom but add quickly "Ooh, how’s Mary? How’s married life?"

"She’s fine. We’re both fine, yeah." he walks to the kitchen looking for the coffee.  _Everything can't be in the wrong place, it's only been a month for God sakes since the last time I was here!_

"Oh, it’s over there now. Where’s Sherl?"

John can't keep inside an incredulous "Sherl!" before explaining to Janine that the man was having a bath.  _What the hell, a woman, Janine! in the flat... It can't be... He must ask Mary if Janine told her something about this during their "girly talks"._

His mind returns to the present time when he hears Janine knocks on the door and GOING INSIDE THE BLOODY BATHROOM WHILE SHERLOCK WAS IN THE BATH!!

"Morning! Room for a little one?!" after that, John can only hear the detective's deep laughs and Janine's giggles.

_Oooooh! Did I fall into a Twilight Zone episode!!!_

"What the hell is going on!" John nearly shouts for the hundred times in the last few hours.

 


	4. Pressure point: John Watson (status to be clarify)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the king of blackmail see through John and Sherlock?

John is still in a bit of a shock when Sherlock finally gets out of his bedroom, fully clothed in his usual 'I'm on my way to a GQ bloody photo-shoot'.

After a quick look in the direction of the doctor, _why does that man smile like a confuse fool?_ , he says, "So – it’s just a guess but you’ve probably got some questions."

"Yeaaaah, one or two, pretty much."

"Naturally."

Janine walks out of the bathroom, into the bedroom and exchanges a smile with Sherlock.

"You have a girlfriend?" _First thing first._

"Yes, I have." _You have a wife why shouldn’t I have a girlfriend?_ John put a bigger smile on his face. Sherlock usually doesn't second guess his decisions, but he almost regrets asking the man to tag along. _What was is name? John? I should really ask for his full name._

"Now, Magnussen. Magnussen is like a shark – it’s the only way I can describe him. Have you ever been to the shark tank at the London Aquarium, John (yes! got it right. It's John!) – stood up close to the glass? Those floating flat faces, those dead eyes ... That’s what he is. I’ve dealt with murderers, psychopaths, terrorists, serial killers. None of them can turn my stomach like Charles Augustus Magnussen."

"Yes, you have."

"Sorry, what?"

"You have a girlfriend." John adds, still completely bemused.

"What? Yes! Yes, I’m going out with Janine. I thought that was fairly obvious."

"Yes. Well ... yes. But I mean you, you, you ... are in a relationship? You and Janine?"

"Yes, I am. Me and Janine." Sherlock replies, more and more irritated.

"Care to elaborate?" John continues, still too amazed to realize the change in his friend's composure.

"Why is it so curious? Who are you to comment on my private life?"

John pauses and looks at his friend. It's kind of true that with all the women that he dates before The Fall, then Mary... _I am in no position to ask questions. Maybe Sherlock was shy and this is why he hadn't brought any women to the flat when I was there? But... "I'm married to my work" and "Not my area". And why Janine among every other woman OR man available?_

"It's just that... Janine? I'm surprised that Mary didn't talk to me about this as she is her friend that's all."

 _Ooooh, he knows Janine, this is why he's so curious and probably anxious. He took me from a drug den only a few hours ago, it's surely not a good sign for the boyfriend of a friend._ Sherlock took a deep breath before adding.

"Well, we’re in a good place. Don't worry, I know in your point of view, especially as a doctor, I'm not the perfect companion for her but I won't let anything bad happen to Janine. Trust me. And as for the relationship, it’s, um ... very affirming."

"You got that from a book... It's been what? A few weeks?"

"Yes, I met her in a coffee place near her office. She cleverly found that the cashier was stealing money from the customers, 50p at the time, and I decided on the spur of the moment, romantic gesture to ask her to sit with me for a tea and pastries. She said that I was rude, that we've met before, she was quite cross that I didn't recall anything, in fact, she even tried to show me pictures! But quickly put that behind her as one of my ‘funny yet troubling quirks’ as she said and stopped nagging about it. We've been together since."

 _The nerve of the man, he danced and talked with her at the wedding! But it's not his business, it's her call if she chooses to go out with the git anyway._ John put a smile on his face as Janine comes back into the room ready to go to work.

"Okay, you two bad boys, behave yourselves." Janine says as she sits on Sherlock's lap. "And you, Sherl, you’re goin' to have to tell me where you were last night."

"Working."

"Working. Of course. I’m the only one who really knows what you’re like, remember?"

"Don’t you go letting on." the man softly replies in her ear before caressing her face.

"I might just, actually." the young woman replies before turning her face toward John. "I haven’t told Mary about this. I kind of wanted to surprise her."

"Yeah, you probably will."

"But we should have you two over for dinner really soon! My place, though – not the scuzz-dump!" then she punches her boyfriend on the shoulder with a laugh.

"Great, yeah! Dinner! Yeah." John was too dumbstruck to create a complete sentence!

She gets up and walks to the door, Sherlock follows. "Have a lovely day. Call me later."

Janine struck his jacket with a knowing glaze and tease "I might do. I might call you – unless I meet someone prettier..." and they kiss.

John turns away as quickly as possible, not knowing where to look. _Oh, a window. Wonderful. And this is such a nice wallpaper, I should ask to Ms. Hudson where she found it maybe I can put the same in my office. Without the bullet holes._

After a softly muttered, "Solve me a crime, Sherlock Holmes." Janine leaves the flat.

Sherlock's demeanor changes immediately as soon as the door closes. The lover leaves to give room to the sharp detective.

"You know Magnussen as a newspaper owner, but he’s so much more than that. He uses his power and wealth to gain information. The more he acquires, the greater his wealth and power. I’m not exaggerating when I say that he knows the critical pressure point on every person of note or influence in the whole of the Western world and probably beyond. He is the Napoleon of blackmail ..."

He walks to his laptop to shows to John a photograph of Magnussen’s home as well as a blueprint of the building.

"... and he has created an unassailable architecture of forbidden knowledge. Its name is Appledore."

"Dinner."

"Sorry, what, dinner?"

"Me and Mary and you and Janine. Dinner ... with ... wine and ... sitting." John adds still unable to shake the amazement from his voice.

"Seriously? I’ve just told you that the Western world is run from this house ... and you want to talk about a dinner that will NEVER happen." _What is HIS problem?_

"Fine, talk about the house."

After an exasperated look, Sherlock continues. "It is the greatest repository of sensitive and dangerous information anywhere in the world the Alexandrian Library of secrets and scandals – and none of it is on a computer. He’s smart – computers can be hacked. It’s all on hard copy in vaults underneath that house; and as long as it is, the personal freedom of anyone you’ve ever met is a fantasy."

His speech is interrupted by Mrs. Hudson’s "Ooh-ooh! Oh, that was the doorbell. Couldn’t you hear it?"

"It’s in the fridge. It kept ringing."

"Oh, that’s not a fault, Sherlock!" _That boy will never change_ , she thought fondly but at least now John is with him, the last month was not really good with Sherlock acting like the wedding never happened and that John wasn’t a part of his life anymore. _I know I said that 'Wedding changes everything!' but I didn’t realize that much. So sad, they would have been a nice couple._

"Who is it?"

Mrs. Hudson's daydreaming stops and she goes downstairs to open the door.

"Mr. Holmes said you can go right up." her voice was nervous as if she was feeling insecure.

Two men, clearly bodyguards, walk into the apartment, leading the way to Charles Augustus Magnussen.

Stopping near Sherlock, one of the bodyguards waits for Sherlock's authorization to check if he had any arms on him. "Oh, go ahead," Sherlock says as if it was a regular occurrence in his life.

Another one looks at John "Sir?"

"Oh, he’s fine." the detective replies for John. _Arms? Come on... a scalpel and a stethoscope maybe!_

"Er, I ... right. I should probably tell you ..." the doctor explains... right before the goon found a flick-knife and the tire lever.

Sherlock looks confused at the sight of John 'arsenal'. _A tire lever, really?_

"I can vouch for this man. He’s a doctor. You know who I am, you probably checked beforehand and know who he is." _Which is better than me_ , Sherlock adds to himself. "Don’t you, Mr. Magnussen? I understood we were meeting at your office."

Magnussen looks around the living room and says, "This is my office. Well, it is now."

He sits on the sofa and scrutinizes John for a moment while a list of details pass through his eyes.

  * _John Hamish Watson._
  * _Afghanistan veteran (see file)._
  * _GP (see file)_
  * _Porn preference: bisexual / normal_
  * _Finances: 10% debt (see file)_
  * _Pressure point: > Harry Watson (sister) alcoholic, Mary Morstan (wife), Sherlock Holmes (best friend, man of honour at the wedding)_



"Mr. Magnussen, I have been asked to intercede with you by Lady Elizabeth Smallwood on the matter of her husband’s letters."

Magnussen appears unconcerned by the detective's request. He looks at the newspaper on the coffee table, not paying any attention to Sherlock whatsoever.

"Some time ago you ... put pressure on her concerning those letters. She would like those letters back."

The business man finally fixes his attention on the tall man in front of him and a list of facts appears, floating in front of his eyes.

  * _Sherlock Holmes: consulting detective_
  * _Porn preference: unknown_
  * _Finances: unknown_
  * _Brother: Mycroft Holmes MI6 (see file)_
  * _Girlfriend: Janine Hawkins (just a front / possible liability / must keep an eyes on her at the office / friend of R.)_
  * _Officially deceased: 2011-2013_
  * _Pressure point: Irene Adler (admiration/desire?), Jim Moriarty (admiration/enemy/desire?), Redbeard (to be clarified), Hounds of the Baskerville (fear), Opium (ex-addict), John Watson (status to be clarified)_



"Obviously the letters no longer have any practical use to you, so with that in mind ..." He stops talking, Magnussen clearly not listening.

"Sorry, I-I was reading. There’s rather a lot about you." he adds with a sinister smile.

Sherlock frowns, not understanding what the man is doing.

"Redbeard. Hum... Interesting."

The detective blinks rapidly before being able to regain his composure. _Why does Magnussen talk about Redbeard? What kind of sick game this is?_

"Sorry. You were probably talking?"

"I ... I was trying to explain that I’ve been asked to act on behalf of ..."

But once more Magnussen stops listening to asks to one of the security men. "Bathroom?"

"Along from the kitchen, sir."

"Okay."

Sherlock, not wanting the man to get the upper hand continues. "I’ve been asked to negotiate the return of those letters... I’m aware you do not make copies of sensitive documents ..."

"The bathroom, is it like the rest of the flat?" Magnussen interrupts again, turning to one of his men.

"Yes, sir."

With a sigh, he states, "Maybe not, then."

"Am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?" Sherlock was still trying to accomplish his mission. John was fascinated by his patience. _God, I'm not the one who talks and I am 2 seconds away from punching the bastard in the face to erase that cold smile._

"Mr. Magnussen, am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?" his friend says louder.

"Lady Elizabeth Smallwood. I like her. She’s English, with a spine. The best thing about the English ... You’re so domesticated. All standing around, apologizing... keeping your little heads down."

He then proceeds to the fireplace where one of his guards promptly removes the screen and he urinates into it!

"You can do what you like here. No one’s ever going to stop you. A nation of herbivores. I’ve interests all over the world but, er, everything starts in England. If it works here... I’ll try it in a real country."

After he wipes his hands, he finally answers Sherlock. "Tell Lady Elizabeth I might need these letters, so I’m keeping them. Goodbye."

He walks to the door and turns one last time toward John and Sherlock. He puts his hand in his pocket and laughs as he pulls out some letters. "Anyway, they’re funny.” Then he steps outside, one of the guards closing the door after them.

John was the first to react with a furious, "Jesus!"

"Did you notice the one extraordinary thing he did?"

"Wh... There was a moment that kind of stuck in the mind, yeah." he replies with a gesture in the direction of the fireplace even if Sherlock was not looking at him. _Kind of hard to miss!_

"Exactly – when he showed us the letters!" he grins.

"... Okay."

"So he’s brought the letters to London – so no matter what he says, he’s ready to make a deal. Now, Magnussen only makes a deal once he’s established a person’s weaknesses – the ‘pressure point,’ he calls it. So, clearly he believes I’m a drug addict and no serious threat. I’ve been working exclusively on this for the last month. My email account is bursting but I can't take on other cases as long as this is not finished. This is why I was in the drug den, so it was time well spent! And, of course, because he’s in town tonight, the letters will be in his safe in his London office while he’s out to dinner with the Marketing Group of Great Britain from seven ’til ten.”

"How-how do you know his schedule?"

"Because I do. Right – If you still want to be a part of this I’ll see you tonight. I’ve got some shopping to do."

"What’s tonight?"

"I’ll text instructions. Give me your phone number."

 _God give me patience!_ "I didn't change it, still the same old number."

"Hum? I don't have the time to check, I can find it if you want but it would be quicker if you simply give it to me."   _I could ask to Janine but seriously, what was the man's problem?_

"And don't bring a knife or a tire lever. Probably best not to do any arm-spraining, Billy told me how you injured him when we left the den, but we’ll see how the night goes." Sherlock went down the stairs and called a taxi.

"You’re just assuming I’m coming along?"

"I still don't know why you were there this morning and why you’re thinking you ought to check on me, but you definitively need more action in your life and you’re not as dimwitted as most of NSY. Time for you to get out of the house and do more exercise, the cycling isn’t doing it. See you later!" he adds with a smile.

He opens the cab door and gets in, leaving a mystified John on the pavement.

A few seconds later, Sherlock's phone buzzes with a text. “Here you go, you inconsiderate git, is that enough to get my number back in your directory? Text me later if you **really**  want me around.”

“I can’t believe the guts of the man and where does he found my number?” The detective said out loud in the taxi. Looking at his phone, he clicks to save the number in his directory only to realize that it is already there under the name 'John'. He can't find any conversation as he regularly wipes the memory of is phone, clearing texts and emails as soon as possible. Curious, he closes his eyes for a quick visit to his Mind Palace but found nothing.

His focus went back to Magnussen and the task ahead.

 


	5. They’re always something!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You all know what happened in Magnussen office... not too graphic but be aware that it can be triggering to some readers.

Later that night, John follows Sherlock instructions and walks to the lobby of CAM Global News HQ. Looking at his watch, he waits for his friend a minute or two before he appears beside him.

"Magnussen’s office is on the top floor, just below his private flat but there are fourteen levels of security between us and him, two of which aren’t even legal in this country. Want to know how we’re going to break in?"

"Is that what we’re doing?"

"Of course it’s what we’re doing. You still can change your mind if you're too domesticated to do so." the detective replies before he turns and walks towards the gate.

 _Oh no, you're not leaving me behind this time!_  John protests under his breath, and he runs after the detective.  The first security check went smoothly and they arrive at a white corridor. 

"That is the path to Magnussen’s private lift. It goes straight to his penthouse and office. Only he uses it and only his key card calls the lift. Anyone else even tries, security is automatically informed." Sherlock shows John a magnetic card. "Standard key card for the building. Nicked it yesterday. Only gets us as far as the canteen." He stops John a few feet away from the lift door.

"If I was to use this card on that lift now, what happens?" the detective asks while the scenario rushes into his mind.

"Er, the alarms would go off and you’d be dragged away by security."  _And the madness will end?_

"Exactly." 

"You get taken to a small room somewhere and your head kicked in." John nearly smiles at the image.

"But if I do this," he presses the card to the back of his phone, "If you press a key card against your mobile phone for long enough, it corrupts the magnetic strip. The card stops working. It’s a common problem – never put your key card with your phone... What happens if I use the card now?"

"It still doesn’t work. It's not just a lock, you can't just pass thru like that!" 

"But it doesn’t read as the wrong card now. It registers as corrupted. But if it’s corrupted, how do they know it’s not Magnussen? Would they risk dragging him off?"

"Probably not..." John sighs.

"So what do they do? What do they have to do?"

"Check if it’s him or not."  _Oh my God, are we really doing this?_

"There’s a camera at eye height to the right of the door. A live picture of the card user is relayed directly to Magnussen’s personal staff in his office – the only people trusted to make a positive ID at this hour, almost certainly his PA."

"So how’s that help us?" the doctor asks confused by the workflow of Sherlock plan.

Sherlock lets go a big nearly real smile. "Human error. I’ve been shopping." He walks to the lift, while John follows anxiously. 

"Here we go, then." He then takes the corrupted card and presses it on the reader.  

"You realize you don’t exactly look like Magnussen." John observes, away from the camera.

"Which, in this case, is a considerable advantage. I'm definitively prettier" he jests to the man beside him.   _Now it is the time to win an Oscar!_

Janine appears on the screen beside the lift, looking with amazement at Sherlock.

"Sherlock, you complete loon! What are you doing?!"

John starts to talk "Hang on – was that ...? That ...!" but his friend pushes him away from the prying camera.

"Hi, Janine." he says softly and sensuously, "Go on, let me in."

"I can’t! You know I can’t. Don’t be silly."

"Don’t make me do it out here. Not in front of everyone."

"Do what in front of everyone?"

John at that moment was losing it.  _What the hell! How could Sherlock act like that… It was clear now! Janine was only a key to get inside Magnussen's office!_  He looks back at the detective with disgust.  _Oh, this is not good, we are soooooo talking about this later!_   Then the bastard takes a small red box and shows a ring to Janine.   _A bloody big engagement ring!_

Without surprise... The door of the lift magically opens.

"You see? As long as there are people, there’s always a weak spot." Sherlock explains while walking into the lift. “I know it can be confusing, but humans are so predictable. When you know what they really want it’s easy to manipulate them.” 

"That was Janine."

"Yes, of course, it was Janine. She’s Magnussen’s PA. That’s the whole point."  _Why don't people just listen?_ "I need her, she was happy to go out with a ‘celebrity’, it’s a win-win situation. It’s like you, you jump onto the occasion to add more action to your boring life and I need someone with me because two men walking around is less conspicuous than a solitary one. Win-win.”

John's barely contained anger rises to the surface once more. “So, to be clear, you just got engaged to break into an office? And you used me as an ‘extra’ only and you don’t really need my help?"  _The nerve of the man! The number of times I saved his sorry ass!_

"In short, yeah. I was going to ask one of my homeless network, but you did just fine. For Janine, a stroke of luck that she wasn’t married. It was pretty easy to cross paths with her as soon as I realize she went to that coffee shop each day for lunch." 

"Je-Jesus! It's JANINE! You cut into pieces the heart of my wife's best friend. For a bloody case! Sherlock, she... she loves you."

"Yes," he replies without any emotion. "like I said – human error."

"What are you going to do?"  _How is this man, this machine, my friend! The “used to be my best friend” is starting to look more appealing!_

"Well, not actually marry her, obviously. There’s only so far you can go."

"So what will you tell her?"

With acrookedd smile, Sherlock says "Well, I’ll tell her that our entire relationship was a ruse to break into her boss' office. I imagine she’ll want to stop seeing me at that point ... but you’re the expert on women, being married and all." 

As the lift stops and the doors open, Sherlock brings back the fake happy smile and looks around for Janine. 

"So where did she go? It’s a bit rude. I just proposed to her."

 _That's rich coming from the rudest asshole_... but John thoughts were interrupted when he sees an unconscious Janine on the floor.

"Sherlock, quickly!"

"Did she faint? Do they really do that?" he says with an incredulous smirk.

"No, there's blood. It’s a blow to the head. She’s breathing. Janine?"

"Be a doctor and stay with her. I'll look around."

"Hey. They must still be here. The criminals who attacked her." John whispers. "We should call the police." he reaches for his phone before Sherlock point out "During our own burglary?! You’re really not a natural at this, are you?... No, wait, shh! What's that scent.. I know what it is..."

In Sherlock's min,d the perfumes flow one after the other.  _Versace, No 5, no, no, and not Janine... Prada, Dior, ahhh!_

"Clair-de-la-lune! Why do I know it?"

"It's pretty popular you know, even Mary wears it."

"No, not Mary. Somebody else. I know someone else. Anyway, your wife was still in pajamas this morning and hadn’t add the time to do her morning cosmetic routine... Did you heard that? Someone is upstairs!"

John, seeing the focus in Sherlock eyes, tries to get his attention while taking care of a still unconscious Janine. "Sherlock! SHERLOCK! You are not going upstairs alone!"  the doctor says as convincingly and quietly as possible.  _The man is impossible, I won't let him get killed for real this time! And as soon as I can takea few minutes to think I should really decide if I care or not. Why did I get out of  bed this morning?_ He turns his attention back to the woman on the floor, trying to make her as comfortable as possible.

Sherlock was now in what was Magnussen's flat. Voices were coming out from a room... Magnussen!

"What-what-what would your husband think, eh? He ... your lovely husband, upright, honourable ..."

From a gap in the door, Sherlock was able to see the business man on his knees but not who’s menacing him.

"He's... so English. What-what would he say to you now?"

Changing his perspective, the detective was able to have a look on the aggressor. Someone dressed all in black and wearing black gloves. A gun is pointing at Magnussen. The unknown assailant, a woman probably, cocks the gun and puts it near the man head.

"Nej, nej!" Magnussen cries. "You’re-you’re doing this to protect him from the truth ... but is this protection he would want?"

Sherlock takes the opportunity to opens the door slowly and is able to penetrate into the room unseen before speaking to the bewilderment of Magnussen and the now known assailant. Claire-de-la-lune, of course! He remembers the scent now from their previous meeting when he first took the case.

"Additionally, if you’re going to commit murder, you might consider changing your perfume Lady Smallwood."

"Sorry. Who?" A confused Magnussen asks. "That’s ... not ... Lady Smallwood, Mr. Holmes."

The black silhouette finally turns to looks at Sherlock, now aiming the gun at him.  _The doctor's wife... Mary? What?_

A succession of images pass through his mind, screen shots of the short meeting with the woman this morning. 

_Confident. Likes the danger. Not worried when her husband put two junkies in the back of the family car. The look of desire towards John when he roughly manhandles him. The little smile when Molly confirmed that he was high and slaps him thoroughly. And lies, lies, lies… everywhere._

"Is John with you?"

"He’s, um ..." Sherlock wasn't able to talk.  _What the hell is happening?_

"Is John here?" Mary interrupted him forcibly.

"He-he’s downstairs." 

Magnussen intervenes "So, what do you do now? Kill us both?" 

Mary looks back at the man, still keeping her gun on the detective, the doubt rising.  _What should I do? This is too easy, I can kill two birds with one stone! But John will be devastated… and the git, I kind of like him, such a waste of a brilliant mind if he dies..._

"Mary, whatever he’s got on you, let me help."  _It is the only possible theory. Magnussen must have something on Mary and maybe John. It can't be a coincidence, the universe is rarely so lazy... The friendship with Janine, all this is a plan to get to Magnussen!_

He moves towards her.

"Oh, Sherlock, if you take one more step I swear I will kill you." her voice had a hint of exasperation.  _Come on Sherlock, don't makes me kill you! It is what HE wanted but everyone is out now so I can forgot that last order… but you’ve got to work with me… please…!_ She silently begged.

"No, I think I know you, the real you. You're a liar but you do love your husband, probably more then he do. I know you, you are a caretaker, a nurse, a doctor’s wife, you won’t kill me." the last words were spoken  soothingly in a whisper.

He takes a step in her direction and... she pulls the trigger, sending a bullet directly into Sherlock's torso.

Magnussen pulls himself up, trying to leave the room, but Mary is quicker and she knocks him out with the handle of the gun. Sherlock, still upright but quickly bleeding to death, looks at the bullet hole then to the woman with horror.   _How can I have misjudged her so completely? There's always something…_

"I’m sorry, Sherlock. Truly am." The woman tearfully says.

"Mary... Why?" Sherlock says before falling into oblivion.

 


	6. You always feel it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still following the plot of "His Last Vow"... Sherlock has been shoot and found refuge in his Mind Palace.

Sherlock's mind is quickly shutting down. Alarms beginning to blare in his head while everything around him fades to a deep black. Frenetically, his Mind Palace panics and he starts running down the stairs of a decrepit building clinging with difficulty to the handrail, not wanting to let go and falls. The not so familiar place jumps his anxiety level. _Why is the building of that woman with a pink suitcase so important? First case with Moriarty, yes that's it._

With a flash, he is now mentally back in Magnussen’s flat with Molly looking curiously at his wound.

"It’s not like it is in the movies." She explains with a worried smile. "There’s not a great big spurt of blood and you go flying backwards." More seriously, she adds, "The impact isn’t spread over a wide area. It’s tightly focused, so there’s little or no energy transfer.  You stay still and the bullet pushes through. You’re almost certainly going to die, so we need to focus."

As a duplicate of their recent encounter, she slaps him hard across the face. _Remember that there are people who love you!_ In the Mind Palace, Sherlock's head jolts under the shock. "I said ..." she slaps him harder "… focus!" 

Sherlock opens his eyes. He is now in the mortuary watching an image of himself on the slab.

"It’s all well and clever having a Mind Palace, but you’ve only three seconds of consciousness left to use it. So, come on – what’s going to kill you?"

"Blood loss."

"Exactly. So, it’s all about one thing now… Forwards, or backwards?"

Sherlock slowly loses consciousness, fighting to stay in his Mind Palace… his eyes close for a second and he’s back in Magnussen’s room, now staring at his transport bleeding to death.

"We need to decide which way you’re going to fall." Molly explains.

With Mary and Magnussen unmoving in the back, Anderson appears and goes behind Sherlock to look for the exit wound.

"One hole, or two?" He asks.

"Sorry?"

"Is the bullet still inside you or is there an exit wound? It’ll depend on the gun." Molly clarifies to a confused Sherlock. 

A catalogue of guns pass in front of Sherlock's eyes quickly, he finds the one that shot him, he thinks… Or that other one… He can’t focus. _I'm dying for God sakes! Why I am the one who must figure it out!_

Mycroft's voice interrupts the path of self-pity his younger brother was taking. "Oh, for God’s sake, Sherlock."

The detective turns his head and stares at his older sibling, calmly sitting in his office. "It doesn’t matter about the gun. Don’t be stupid. You always were so stupid... Such a disappointment."

Sherlock, now feeling like a young boy, looks up at his brother angrily "I’m not stupid!"

"You’re a _very_ stupid little boy. Mummy and Daddy are very cross because it doesn’t matter about the gun." 

"Why not?"

"You saw the whole room when you entered it. What was directly behind you when you were murdered?" Mycroft says looking with a superior air at his brother. 

"I’ve not been murdered _yet_ ." 

"Balance of probability, little brother." 

At this word, the alarm begins to sound again, and he's back in the room in front of an adult version of himself, still standing, somehow; the young boy looks at the mirror on the wall.

"If the bullet had passed through you, what would you have heard?"

"The mirror shattering."

"You _didn’t_. Therefore ...?" 

"The bullet is still inside me."

"So, we need to take him down backwards.” Anderson clinically declares while Molly agrees. 

"Sherlock you need to fall on your back." She gives the order firmly. "Fall. Now."

Sherlock’s body fall backwards but, right before he hits the floor, he is back to the mortuary room with the alarm blaring at full blast. "What the hell is that? What’s happening?"

"You’re going into shock.” Molly explains to a panicking Sherlock. “It’s the next thing that’s going to kill you."

"What do I do?"

Mycroft walks to the room to look pitifully at his brother.  _I've always been the smart one._ "Don’t go into shock, obviously. Must be something in this ridiculous memory palace of yours that can calm you down… Find it."

Sherlock goes back to the staircase again, opening doors, looking for something to calm himself. He must find it quickly, he feels his mind shutting down. The voice of Mycroft echoing "FIND IT, SHERLOCK!"

A door opens in front of him and Mary, in her pajama and dressing gown, fires her gun at Sherlock. His consciousness falls again until he touches ground on a wooden floor. Turning his head he realizes that an Irish setter is there with him.  "Hello, Redbeard. Here, boy. Come on! Come to me. It’s okay. It’s all right." The dog runs towards Sherlock and he barks happily.  " _Good_ boy! Clever boy! Hello, Redbeard. They’re putting me down too, now. It’s no fun, is it?" He falls on his backside, feeling sick and confused. "Redbeard." He calls weakly one last time.

In parallel Sherlock continues his backward fall in slow motion and lands quietly on the floor. His eyes open and he starts to convulse, the pain unbelievably strong. In the Mind Palace, the detective shakes and screams endlessly, Redbeard looking upon him whining.

"Without the shock, you’re going to feel the pain." Molly states plainly. "There’s a hole ripped through you. Massive internal bleeding. YOU HAVE TO CONTROL THE PAIN." 

Sherlock finds the strength to walk again. _I must find another room where I will be able to control the pain!_ He opens a door into a padded cell.  No, not this room.  Worse than Serbia, worse than rehab… Sherlock falls on the floor. A man his already in the cell, a former version of himself? _Why do I keep this room?_ _Where is the little girl?_ _I can’t think!_

"Help me please…" He moans to the straitjacket man who doesn’t move.  _“_ Control! Control! Control.” The detective sobs, slowly calming his self.  The man in the cell lastly turns to looks at Sherlock. It is a filthy, crazy, chained Moriarty.

"You." Sherlock moves as far as possible. "You never felt pain, did you? Why did you never feel _pain_ ?" 

"You _always_ feel it, Sherlock." The criminal replies, his singsong voice tone down by the jubilation in his voice. "But you don’t have to fear it!"  Moriarty watches as his former enemy falls on the concrete floor, crying out as the pain intensifies.  He goes near Sherlock to murmurs "Pain. Heartbreak. Loss. Death. It’s all good.  It’s all good."

A voice rebounds in the cell, John voice. "Sherlock!" The doctor kneels near his friend to check his vital signs. "Sherlock? Can you hear me?" He looks around the room, Magnussen is lying on the floor, no sign of an assailant. "What happened?"

"He got shot." Magnussen replies with difficulty.

"Jesus." He opens Sherlock's Belstaff and realizes the amount of blood and the wound. "Sherlock! Oh, my...Who shot him?" He turns to Magnussen, but the man stays quiet.

Talking over the phone with the emergency services, John's focus remains on his friend. _God. God. God. Please not again. Not after everything you've been through, not before I thank you properly for saving me_. "Sherlock! Stay with me!" 

In the padded room, the detective can't stop convulsing on the floor. Right beside him, Moriarty is singing slowly, as if to calm a trouble child... "It’s raining, it’s pouring. Sherlock is boring ..." He lays alongside Sherlock, gazing at him almost adoringly. The exterior noise of the ambulance and the paramedics nearly disappears as Jim continues to sing, "I’m laughing, I’m crying... Sherlock is dying."

In the ambulance, even with an oxygen mask, Sherlock is still not coming back. John stays as near as he can without being in the way of the paramedics. "We’re losing you. Sherlock? Open your eyes for me? SHERLOCK!"

In the Mind Palace, the criminal mastermind continues is soliloquy. "Come on, Sherlock. Just die, why can’t you? One little push, and off you pop." _How nice it would be to have company._ He flips on his backside, clearly waiting for the end. _What happens to a Mind Palace when the owner's transport is not cooperating?_ "Ay, there's the rub! For in that sleep of death what dreams may come? When we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause ..." He declaims. "Good old William, always the words you need for cheering you up... Come on Sherlock, just die already!"  

Now at the hospital, the man is connected to a heart monitor that only gives out a single flat line. A surgeon tries a few more heart compressions on his chest, but it's too late. Sherlock's body is now dead, even with the breathing tube and the reanimation attempted by the surgeons. 

Talking over the flatline tone, Moriarty concludes "You’re gonna love being dead, Sherlock. No one _ever_ bothers you. Mrs. Hudson will cry; and Mummy and Daddy will cry; and Mycroft will be alllll alone... and The Woman will cry." His pitch is now almost hysterical. "I bet even that man, he knows you for a day and he was already screaming and crying buckets and buckets... What was his name?" He asks not expecting a reply from the twisted form beside him.

"John... and his wife... Mary... assassin." _I MUST do something...But it's so nice to lay down without anywhere to go, with no one to deal with. I think I'm gone stay there..._

At Sherlock's words a spark of lucidity passes through Moriarty's eyes. "Blondie-Bloody-Mary" he laughs manically. "You got everyone but let Mary go... Oh... Poor Sherlock, you're so ordinary finally, missing the most obvious one, the long con artist... It's good that you're dead now. Sooo ordinary." 

Sherlock's eyes open suddenly. Jim turns in his direction and follows Sherlock stare upward, to the light in the middle of the room. _No, no, no, noooo!_ He finds the strength to get up. Jim looks at him "Oh, you’re not getting better, are you?" while Sherlock open the door of the cell. "Was it something I said, huh?... Sherlock. SHERLOCK!" Jim screams as he is once more alone in the cell.

At the hospital, the monitor is still showing a flat line but one blip finally appears. Moaning and grunting to return consciousness, the detective continues to struggle up the staircase painfully. With each stride, the blip on the monitor intensifies. The surgeons run back just in time to watch Sherlock fingers spasm. Less than a minute later, the monitor shows one defiant spike and then gradually strengthens... 

While Sherlock walks through the last of the fog, images pass rapidly in front his eyes: _When he discovered The Work, first time he caught a killer, the first time he heard the name 'Moriarty', the gunman who saved him from taking the pill, the Great Game, the pool with all the snipers on him, the adrenaline rush, Richard Brook, the trial, his reputation completely destroyed, Moriarty's suicide and the jump... The Fall. Then all the lives he took to insure the security of his friends and the public. The torture. Returning back to London, only to feel loneliness and uneasiness. All that for nothing... THE JOB IS NOT DONE YET!_

He opens his eyes and whispers roughly in spite of the tube blocking his throat... _"Mary!"   _


	7. Oh, you, Mrs. Watson you’re in big trouble.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is recovering in the hospital. Mycroft realizes what is wrong with his brother...

At the hospital, John paces randomly, waiting for his wife. Mary, out of her 'assassin' outfit, sees him and they run into each other harms.

"Mary", John murmurs, "He’s only bloody woken up! He’s pulled through."

 "Really?! Seriously?” Mary replies with a warm smile, hugging John.

 "Oh, you, Mrs. Watson you’re in big trouble."

"Really? Why?"

"His first word when he woke up?... Mary!" John laughs.

She giggles and hugs John again, but over John's shoulder, her smile has vanished, replaced by an anxious expression. Leaving John who needs to make some calls, she enters Sherlock's room.

In the room, everything is calm save the exception of the blip of the monitor and the low white noise of a rotary fan. Mary moves near the bed and watches the man she shots two hours ago. With a soft but menacing voice, she says strongly, "You don’t tell him." She waits until the man opens his eyes, to be certain that he understands. "Sherlock? You don’t tell John."

Many miles away, Magnussen is reading a folder with a picture of Mary on it. "Bad girl. Bad, bad girl." he says with an expression full of delight.

Still in Sherlock’s hospital room, Mary inclines her head at the level of his ears. “Look at me – and tell me you’re not gonna tell him.” The detective looks at Mary while he falls back into a drug induce sleep, not able to utter a world. In his head, everything is fuzzy and he can't concentrate. _I need to wake up! I've got something to do... The job is not done... Lestrade... Mrs. Hudson... and someone else? Mycroft? No, he's able to protect him self... They are in danger. God I can't think, morphine does not help like cocaine. He tries to push down the morphine but exhaustion takes its toll and he falls into a sleep full of nightmares._

 

A few hours later, he wakes up to find his brother sitting in one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs, looking grim. "Mycroft...?"

"Yes, brother, it's me. You gave Doctor Watson and me quite a fright! Care to explain what happened? Except of course that you went to Magnussen when I HAVE expressly forbidden you to do so." Mycroft was unable to restrain his anger. _A dictator is less trouble then Sherlock! And I'll have to deal with a  worrying Mummy now - above all !_ Sherlock hadn’t the time to deal with an angry brother. He needs the _'Minor position in the government'_ man right now. "Mycroft... You can be mad at me later, put that aside for now, please! I'm certain you've got a file cabinet full of things that are my fault! But now, I need to talk to you. Are we alone? It's serious."

The older Holmes walks to the door, asks Anthea to make sure that nobody will disturb them and went back to his chair. He doesn’t know what Sherlock has to tell him, but it's certainly not good. Since yesterday's visit to Baker Street, complications are piling upon his desk at a regular and gruesome pace.  He raises his brother bed a little ;gives him a little amount of water and waits.

"What do you know about the doctor's wife? Mary..." _What was the name Mycroft said?_ "Watson?" _Yes, that's it! Doctor John Watson._ "What to you know about Mary Watson?" he repeats with more confidence. "Please tell me you have a file somewhere and that you know everything about her from where she went to primary school to what is her favorite ice-cream flavour!" The hope mixed with anxiety in Sherlock eyes was something new for Mycroft. _What's all this, how come this nurse is important? Have I missed something... No, please, don't tell me I am the cause of all this._ "Why do you ask brother mine?" Mycroft asks seriously looking Sherlock in his eyes, still foggy even if the morphine was less present in his blood.

"She's the one who shot me."

"WHAT!" Mycroft furiously got up out of his chair. Anthea promptly opens the door to check if everything is all right but her boss quickly dismisses her. "Are you sure? You can have been mistaken... you haven't been yourself yesterday." He adds with a knowing stare. But his mind was already running through everything he know about the woman... _She's a nurse at Doctor Watson's surgery, been with him for a year or so, no known relatives, and... and... what else. It's empty, nothing. My God!_

With a distressful sight, he falls back on his chair and puts his head on his hands. "I don't know. I know nothing."

"It's ok, you can't know everything!" _I need to think!,_ Sherlock tried to put his hands under his chin but can't do so because of the IV and others lines. "She went under the radar for so long after Moriarty death... Even I didn't know about her. God knows her real name!" He adds with a hint of exasperation.

At these words, Mycroft turns to ash, "Moriarty? What do you mean Moriarty?" His younger brother turns his eyes to looks at him more closely. 

"I mean everything. Is there anything in the last years that hasn't rotates around him?" _How to explain now that in his Mind Palace Jim Moriarty confirmed that Mary was one of his snipers... Better to go with facts only for now._ "Just before she shot me, she said ' _It is what **HE** wanted but everyone is out now so I can forgot that last order'.  _ It can only be Moriarty." 

Suddenly terribly tired, Mycroft confirms that it was effectively a real possibility. He leaves the room; quietly talks to Anthea then comes back to the plastic chair. Watching his older sibling, Sherlock is unable to understand what the problem is. The man, usually so confident, is crumbling in front of him. "What's wrong? I hope it's not about what happened at Magnussen office? Magnussen is not important right now." 

Mycroft glances at his brother, not understanding his behavior. _Sherlock should be furious. When he left London years ago, he asked me only one thing: Protect my friends.   And I have failed, totally.  I let his best friend - for want of a better word - get involved with an assassin._ "... and you shouldn’t blame yourself. Moriarty was, _is_ , a terrible opponent! You can't control everything years after years, and I am the one who told you that I had destroyed his network.  It's bad luck that I miss one spider. We must decide quickly what to do next." 

The politician looks at the man in front of him and replies, first shakily then with more assurance "I just asked Anthea to upgrade the security around Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and yourself.  I also added Ms. Hopper at the same time, as her involvement in your death is known to Mrs. Watson. But, from now, let's call her by her maiden name shall we: Mary Morstan." After a pause where his eyes didn't left Sherlock for a second, he continue with a more cautious tone. "Regarding Doctor Watson and Mary Morstan... I raised the level of security on John Watson and have started a thorough investigation and surveillance on Mary Morstan. She won't be able to fly anywhere. We'll have to, hum, figure a way to... talk to the doctor without putting him in danger... and... and... Sherlock, I am so sorry that I failed you!"

Sherlock's astonishment is written all over his face... _Mycroft apologizing? "_ Why are you acting like that? Have I missed something? I'm not... dying, right?" he asks with a small smile.  "I'll be back in shape in no time, in the meanwhile you must keep everyone safe. You should be able to do so with MI5 and MI6 under your thumb." With caution he grabs a glass of water to drinks a few sips. _Oh God, I'm thirsty!_  He puts down the plastic cup and closes his eyes to put orders in his thoughts.  _So much new information, I must talk to Janine also. She's probably only a chess piece, but why does Mary need a friend in Magnussen's office? Maybe she knows something._  

Still lost in his thoughts he declares to his brother."Regarding John Watson, I don't have enough data. Judging by my meeting yesterday, I estimate they have been married for about 4 to 6 weeks, with not more than one year of co-habitation before.  It's pretty quick. You should investigate him as well, he can be only a front for Morstan or an accomplice."

Holmes stares at his brother like he was a madman. "Sherlock! You can't be serious! I know I've repeatedly said to you that _caring is not an advantage_ , but you surely not doubting John Watson! Is there something you should told me?"   Opening his eyes, he was slowly falling back to sleep, Sherlock watches his brother with a 'who the hell are you and what have you done with my cold hearted brother?' glance. "What's your problem Mycroft? It's true he is more interesting than most, but you can't have him you know, he is still married... but I presumes that being an assassin is as good ground for a divorce as adultery." he had a laugh at his brother expense. "God, you've met him for the first time yesterday! You’re very loyal to him, very quickly. It's not your habitual _modus operandi_... Are we to expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?" After one last chuckle, Sherlock falls to sleep...

Mycroft Holmes, the man who manages the UK, walks to the door looking older and worn out. After a last look to the sleeping form of his brother he opens the door and braces his self for what with follow. He finally understands what an emotional Sherlock has done... voluntarily or not.  _As my brother often says, Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the_ _truth_ **...** _Oh brother mine, what have you done? What I have done?_ After a few words with Anthea, he gets out of the ICU. Looking over he finds John Watson who, drained by the emotion of the last two days, crashed on a chair sleeping. Mycroft can't keep inside a soft "Poor man... I'm so sorry." He strides to reach Lestrade who was waiting nearby. "Inspector, do you have time for a coffee? We have a problem."

 

Sherlock was recuperating at a satisfactory speed, however, not quickly enough for those around him! Each day brings crying nurses, repeated attempted bribery of the night staff to get nicotine patch, or trays that are magically flying across the room. Without his computer and his phone, his mind was restless.  The last link with Moriarty was near and he could do NOTHING! Lestrade, usually unable to shut up, stays silent or talks of banalities like a robbery gone wrong ( _easily solved from my bed, barely a 3!_ ) or worse, football or the weather. _The weather for God sakes! We've got a killer on the loose and Lestrade prattles about inundation in Scotland! Mycroft is not much better, talking gibberish about old cases and inquiring how I occupied my days in the last month.   Who cares about an old case or how well I slept 2 weeks ago when Moriarty's spirit is around us!_

After a few excruciating days, the only satisfactory and entertaining visitor was Janine.  They spent the afternoon talking.  Angrily at first, as Sherlock had a lot of explaining to do, then friendlier. Janine brought many trashy newspaper, she helps adjust the bed to be certain that he'll be able to read the tabloids, and they pass an hour or so laughing at the articles.  “SHAG-A-LOT HOLMES” was Sherlock's favorite headline, while Janine particularly enjoyed “He made me wear the hat” with a sexy picture of her modeling a deerstalker.

"I’m buying a cottage. I made a lot of money out of you, mister... Nothing hits the spot like revenge for profits."

"You didn’t give these stories to Magnussen, did you?" Sherlock asks, now tired by the energy of his ex-girlfriend.

"God, no – one of his rivals. He was spittin’!" Sherlock let go a little laugh that angered Janine a little. "You knew that I was only a PA, I can't see why you needed me except for opening that door... Sherlock Holmes, you are a back-stabbing, heartless, manipulative bastard."

"And you – as it turns out – are a grasping, opportunistic, publicity-hungry tabloid whore." He replies with a smirk.

"So we’re good, then!"

"Yeah, of course. Where’s the cottage?"

"Sussex Downs. It’s gorgeous. There’s beehives, but I’m getting rid of those."

''No, leave them in peace. I'll find someone to take care of them." He moves then gasps with pain.

"Aw, hurts, does it? Probably wanna restart your morphine. I might have fiddled with the taps."

"How much more revenge are you gonna need?" Extending his arm, he reaches for the machine and pushes to release a higher dose.

"Just the occasional top-up... Dream come true for you, this place. They actually attach the drugs to you!"

"Not good for working. I can't concentrate..."

"You won’t be working for a while, Sherl." At the endearing term, Sherlock sighs softly. "You lied to me. You lied and lied..."

"I artificially created our first meeting but I truly enjoy being with you... It's... It's unusual for me to feel lonely but I was at the time... and a connection to you helped me."

"A connection, when?!, I don't remember us "connecting"... Just once would have been nice." She adds with a melancholic smile.

"Oh. I was waiting until we got married."

"That was never gonna happen! Got to go." She walks near the bed and kisses him lightly on the forehead. "Just one thing. You shouldn’t have lied to me. I know what kind of man you are ... but we could have been friends." Opening the door, she looks back at him. "I’ll give your love to John and Mary. Bye bye!"

 

Exhausted, Sherlock closes his eyes to rest few minutes... His mind travels. Not a dream, not a flashback, just ideas that need to fall at the right place. Sherlock is there, dressed in his regular attire and not the dreadful hospital gown, and looks around him. A voice resonate around him "You don’t tell him." Mary. She appears in front of him, clad in the black suit she was wearing that night. "You don’t tell John." 

As she talks, the word 'Liar' appears around her, small then bigger and bigger. Sherlock walks towards the assassin "So ... Mary Watson. Who are you?". The corridor switches to Magnussen's office and Mary's hand is now holding a gun. She pulls the trigger and in his hospital bed Sherlock opens his eyes as the sound of the gunshot echoes in his ears.

Pushing down the button to lower the morphine in his veins, Sherlock rises out of his bed with a determined expression. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I'm currently working on the next chapter. Everything will probably be wrap up with 3 or 4 additional chapters. Please do not hesitate to comment!**


	8. Don't be sentimental Inspector Lestrade; it doesn’t help that situation whatsoever

Later that day, Lestrade finds himself in a situation he was carefully avoiding since his talk with Mycroft yesterday: Being alone with John Watson.  John was walking towards Greg with a renewed spring in his stride. He was just plain happy that Sherlock was alive and doing better not knowing what was underlying everything...

"Are you here to talk with Sherlock about what happened? Dunno how much sense you’ll get out of him. He’s still drugged up, so he’s pretty much babbling." John says to the DI "Utter gibberish about Moriarty in his sleep, like he doesn't know the little shit was dead!" He leads the way through the endless corridor.

As discretely as possible, the detective sends a text to Mycroft Holmes.

_John is saying your brother is talking in his sleep about Moriarty... What should I do?! GL _

_Don't worry Detective inspector, we will explain everything to Doctor Watson soon. MH _

_Yeah, but right now you're not the one who has to lie to his friend. GL _

_Currently, your deception is the proof that you are a good friend to both of them. It won't be long; everything will soon be in place.  MH _

_You only need to keep John Watson in the dark for a little longer and be certain that Sherlock is not alone with him anymore. We can't risk his safety and his sanity. MH _

_I will but it's bloody hard! The look on John's face when Sherlock only talks to me! Like John wasn’t in the room. It's heartbreaking. GL _

_Don't be sentimental Inspector Lestrade; it doesn’t help that situation whatsoever. MH _

Near Sherlock's room, John looks at Greg when he heard a beep from his phone. "Oh, they won’t let you use that in here, you know. Because of the machines... Anyway if Sherlock sees your phone he's gone try to pocket it for his own use." The doctor adds with a chuckle despite his irritation towards Sherlock nowadays. "No, I’m not gonna use the phone. I just wanna take a video of Sherlock babbling nonsense. For leverage." Lestrade replies with a nearly perfect natural face.

John opens the door of the room and walks inside.  Everything is silent except for the wind that blows through the open window... Sherlock is gone. "Oh, Jesus." a panicked John says to Greg. Greg swears under his breath and sends another text to Mycroft, no longer hiding the communication.

_We lost your brother. How was he able to leave without any of your men knowing? GL _

_Give me a minute; I'm looking at the footage right now. It's not a kidnapping; he left the hospital on his own will. The CCTV lost him one kilometer at the East of the hospital. MH_

Greg raises his head and quickly confirms to John "Not a kidnapping. The git went for a walk..." before going back to his phone.

_He went through a window... On the third floor... While recovering from a fucking gunshot wound! What's wrong with your damn brother?! GL _

_There's no need for swearing Detective. My team is currently trying to locate him. MH_

_Watson should go home. MH _

_With his assassin wife? Are you crazy?! John and Sherlock need to go in protective custody until your brother is in shape to deal with this mess! GL _

_Don't be overdramatic. We need to keep an eye on Mary Morstan and protect John Watson. Having both at the same place is simple logic. MH _

_But Sherlock will be looking for Mary! GL _

_Exactly. Simple logic, Inspector. MH _

Leaving Greg to his conversation, John took out his own phone to tell Mary about the disappearance of Sherlock. "What the hell is he thinking? The bastard that shot him is still out there!" Thank God for Mary's calmness John thought...

"So where would he go?" Mary asks with an unusually sharp tone.

"Oh, Christ knows. Try finding Sherlock in London." John hangs up a little bit later, and follows Greg to the main exit of the hospital.

"He’s got three known bolt holes..." Greg recalls: "Parliament Hill, Camden Lock and Dagmar Court. Come on John, my car is over there." But, a car is waiting for them. Greg and John exchange an exasperated glare. _Of course a bloody black car is waiting._

Surprisingly or not, Mycroft Holmes is already in the back of the sedan.  As soon as the chauffeur starts the engine, the older Holmes corrects the detective.  "FIVE known bolt holes, DI Lestrade, not three." Greg mutters a ' _bloody Holmes brothers'_ under his breath that Mycroft chooses not to acknowledge. "There’s the blind greenhouse in Kew Gardens and the leaning tomb in Hampstead Cemetery."

 After a quick tour of Baker Street, and the confirmation that Sherlock didn't go near his flat, they went directly to John's house. Lestrade goes inside on the pretense of looking for the detective, but no one is there not even Mary. They find a brief note on the kitchen table "I'm going to Janine, maybe Sherlock will contact her. "

 

A short talk with Janine, to be true to her note, and Mary goes quickly to the source that no one will think about. Who knows more about Sherlock, all the little secrets... than the founder of his fanclub! Anderson was happy to be of assistance.

"Leinster Gardens. That’s his number one bolt hole. It’s top-top secret."

"He only knows about it ’cause he stalked him one night." The woman who tags along with Anderson added with a lopsided grin.

"Followed!"

"Followed, yeah."

  
 

Now back in 221b, John is pacing in the living room while Greg and Mrs. Hudson are murmuring in the kitchen. 

"He knew who shot him!"

"What?" Greg looks at his friend. _Where the hell is Mycroft Holmes when he needs it!_

Pointing his lower chest, John explains: "The bullet wound was here, so he was facing whoever it was."

"So why not tell us?" Greg asks without conviction. _I'm gone kill Mycroft! MI6 or not!_

"Because he’s tracking them down himself... or protecting them." John tone was now frantic.

"Protecting the shooter? Why?"

"Well, protecting someone, then. But why would he care? He’s Sherlock. Who would he bother protecting?"  The doctor says with exasperation. 

At that, Greg utters as clearly as possible, the anger showing in is demeanor. "Must I remember you what Sherlock has done for the three of us! He risked everything, his life, his sanity..." the inspector was now shaking in fury and nearly screaming at his friend. "He went away for US. For YOU! And this is how you repay him?"

"Wait a minute, I never asked him to go alone on a 2 years case.  For us he wasn't AWAY. HE. WAS. DEAD!"

"Yeah, and he is back now. I can understand being frustrated, angry, sad, not wanting to ever talk to him. But THAT! That way of forgiving just enough for your own benefit but not enough to be able to start again. God! How many of us have a second chance to - never mind!"

Both men were now glaring at each other in silence. Mrs. Hudson tries to calm them without any result. Too many things were unspoken and now wasn't the right time.

"He isn't the same! I have no regrets about knocking him down the night he returned. You can't come back in the life of people you... love or whatever sentiment Sherlock is unable to put words to... after two bloody years and think that everything will fall in place smoothly!"

"I know that John, I'm still angry at him for the stunt he pulled, but I'm happy that he is, or was back in one piece." Greg muttered,  more quietly.

"Greg... I want to be happy about it, I am most of the time... But he's not the same man... I don't know what to do. Nothing is easy now... And I'm not just talking about the last few days that have been an out of this world experience!" 

After a brief silence, he looks in Greg's eyes and confesses, "You know I can be violent sometimes, it's inside me... I must be careful all the time. Sherlock... he's the only one who wasn't afraid of me. Who accepted the whole idea of me... Now... It's not the same... You know his notion of personal boundary has always been nonexistent? Since he's back, he doesn't let me touch him, help him... He flinches if I'm talking too loud... Since The Return, the only times he was relaxed around me was at my Stag Night because we were pissed..."

"Oh God, John. You are an ex-soldier, you among all of us should have been the one able to cope with his PTSD..."

The doctor falls into Sherlock's chair, unable to stand. "What are you talking about? Sherlock, no, does he... no..." Images of the damaged soldiers that came back from the war appeared in his mind... _Oh my God I was so lost in my own anger with him and in my perfect love story that I didn't realize. And I asked him to be my best man. A man that I left alone to deal with... whatever happened to him! Sherlock, where are you now!_

Lestrade realizes that John was, at last, starting to grasp that everything is not as black and white as he thought. Kneeling in front of his friend to reassure him that everything wasn't too late. "You really don't know..." he is interrupted before he utters another word.

"Detective Inspector, will you come with me please?" Mycroft Holmes asks from the flat door with his usual excellent timing.

With a soft "Call me if you hear anything." Greg follows Mycroft down the stairs.

"Yeah. Yeah, right." A distracted John finally replies as Mrs. Hudson also leaves the room.

He sits down in Sherlock's chair, feeling awkward by the sight in front of him.  It wasn't right, he should be sitting in front of his friend' chair, not on it...  _Where is he?_   

 


	9. It’s just a façade

John was alone in 221B. Alone with his thoughts.... for the first time in many months.  Flashbacks to the miserable years after Sherlock's fall and before he met Mary were rushing in his memory.  _What really  happened during that time, I have never really asked him. On the contrary, I've -_ _consciously or not - changed the conversation the few times Sherlock tried to talk to me about this.  Then he just... stopped trying and he pushed away the need to talk to me. Not wanting to cause me pain probably..._ With a hint of disgust for his attitude John becomes conscious suddenly that his friend did a lot of that in the last months. He was no longer "Sherlock" when he was around him, but a lighter version of himself in order to get back in John's good graces. _And the worst thing is that I was expecting him to, like it was my due!_

Getting up from the chair, John surveys the flat.  _Where did Sherlock put all the wedding "things"? The seating plan, the purple lace, or is it lilac? I'm sure that Mary would have want to keep some of the stuff... This is what women do, isn't it? I can't imagine Sherlock cleaning, I'll ask Mrs. Hudson._ His thought brings him back to the wedding and he smiles thinking about the brilliant way the  almost murder case was solved, the dance, the song that Sherlock wrote for them, the speech... _Oh God, what's wrong with me! I should think about how Mary was radiant, how happy everyone was for us, not about Sherlock bloody Holmes! But, what kind of best man leaves before the end of the reception anyway!_ He had searched for him everywhere before Molly confirms that she saw the detective leaving the reception few hours before. _Then nothing for a whole month..._ _Nothing before I found the bastard in a drug den._

He was still lost for words on how Sherlock acted toward him in the last few days, and jumps when two knocks and a 'whoo-hoo' announces the arrival of Mrs. Hudson. 

"John? Need a cuppa?" She walks in the kitchen, not waiting for his reply.

"Mrs Hudson ... Do you know where all the wedding things are? And... why did Sherlock remove my chair?" _Why did I just think of that now?!_

"I don't know about the chair my dear, the morning after the wedding I heard a lot of noise and then I realized he was pushing your chair up the stairs to your old room and when I asked about it, he said, 'Mrs. Hudson, I need space! I don't know why this chair was there but I don't like it anymore'.  Poor man, I told him, marriage changes people." She sights and turns back to get the tea. "... and for the wedding souvenirs, I saw one of Mycroft's assistants putting everything in boxes. You should ask Mr. Holmes."

"Ok, I'll do that... Mrs. Hudson, I know that I've not been here around a lot since the wedding." He turns his back on the landlady to watch his tea instead, _I know it's not 'not a lot' but 'not at all'_ , "... but don't you think Sherlock has changed recently?" 

Looking in John eyes with compassion but also a bit of steeliness, the old lady was not in the mood to sugarcoat anything. Not with her boy lost somewhere only 2 days after being shot!

"John, the few days after his return were full of excitement - with that terrorist attempt and all - but after... Sherlock wasn't the same. I don't think he'll ever be.... He is so sorry for the pain he caused us, you in particular. I can feel it in the way he acts when you're around. Not like his usual self, not the public version of him either, you know what I mean by that. I know you know. Instead he acts like a blessed child who would do anything to have the right to apologize."

"In the last days he's been odious with me! I heard so much bullshit - sorry for the word - from him. Any sane person would think that I shouldn't be here worrying about him but at home with my pregnant wife!"

"It's true that since your wedding, it seems like he doesn't want to be associated with you at all... When I talk about you, asking if you called or if you were planning a visit, he looks at me like I have lost my marbles! I realize that for him it's... difficult... but... anyway! I just think that he does not want to talk about you for now. So I stopped asking..." She fusses with the teacups and goes into the kitchen.

Feeling more and more guilty of not having contacted Sherlock in the weeks after the honeymoon, he tries one last excuse. "But why it is always me! He could have called! Why do I always have to make the effort?" 

"John Watson!" Mrs. Hudson turns back in his direction, pointing a finger at his face. "Your FRIEND spent days with Mary helping her to choose every detail for YOUR wedding. He went far and beyond what a best man does usually because he wanted everything to be perfect. FOR YOU. He performed on his violin and gave a speech in front of a crowd, that speech was... Oh, John. Don't tell me you don't understand how much the man loves you." She puts her hands in her face, afraid to talk too much. _Oh God, what a mess._ "I don't think I can take much more you know..." she falls in the sofa, looking defeated. Looking at the floor, she says nearly too low to be heard "The nightmares, the screaming... He stays up all night because he's afraid to sleep; I'm always worrying about him... He needs help but I'm not the one he needs. I should talk to Mycroft, but Sherlock makes me swear to..." She turns her teary eyes to the doctor "John, it's you. Mary changes nothing, it's his friend who he needs first and foremost."

"I... I... don't know what to say anymore. Is it really all my fault?" He sits beside her and too her small hands in his.

"I'll only ask one thing John... Next time he reaches for you, be there! Listen!"

They stay silently, both lost in their thoughts until his phone starts to buzz.

"That’s your phone, isn’t it? Maybe it's Sherlock!"

"It’s Mycroft...Not Sherlock... Not Sherlock." John repeats staring at the screen.

"John! You have to answer it!"

With a last look at the place where his chair used to sit, John put the phone at his ear.

 

 

Later that night, Mary is walking on Leinster Gardens. The street is full of beautiful, identical white four-story houses. Not knowing what to look for, Mary strolls down the street watching the facades when her phone buzzes. 

"Sherlock? Where are you?"

"Can’t you see me?"

"Well, what am I looking for?"

"Hardly anyone notices. People live here for years and never see it, but if you are what I think you are, it’ll take you less than a minute. Look at the houses."

She glances slowly at the row of houses, then stops short. "Ohh. What am I looking at? What so special about this house?"

"No door knobs, no letter box, painted windows. Twenty-three and twenty-four Leinster Gardens ... the empty houses. The lie – the lie of Leinster Gardens – hidden in plain sight. Like you. Mary Morstan. Nurse or should I said ex-secret service, assassin and last of Moriarty's snipers."

"How did you know I’d come here?" Her voice is steady, not reacting to Sherlock last words.

"I knew you’d talk to the people no one else would bother with."

"I thought I was being clever."

"You must be clever to stay undercover all this time.  Really clever, Mary. I was relying on that. I planted the information for you to find. They were demolished years ago to make way for the London Underground, a vent for the old steam trains. Only the very front section of the house remains. It’s just a façade. Remind you of anyone, Mary? A façade."

In bright colour, an image of her on her wedding day appears on the front of the house.

"Oh... subtle." Mary says with a small laugh. "You always did  like theatrical tricks. You're such a diva."

"Don't talk like you know me. You know nothing of me. But do come in. It’s a little cramped."

"Do you own this place?"

"Mmm. I won it in a card game with the Clarence House Cannibal. Nearly cost me my kidneys, but fortunately I had a straight flush." The strain of Sherlock's breath is clearly audible on the phone. He is plainly in pain.  Mary pushes the door open and walks inside.  It is little more than a small poorly lit hallway. It is empty, with the exception of a figure in a chair at the end of the corridor, a medical drip beside him.

"What do you want, Sherlock?"

Still on the phone, Sherlock recites "Mary Morstan was stillborn in October 1972. Her gravestone is in Chiswick Cemetery where – five years ago – you acquired her name and date of birth and thereafter her identity. That’s why you don’t have ‘friends’ from before that date. It’s an old enough technique..."

Mary walks smoothly towards the end of the corridor, trying to get a better look of the figure in the chair. 

"You were very slow."

"Slow? I've only had a few days, I was high or at the hospital on morphine half of the time!" Sherlock protests.

"Don't play with me... If you were as good as they say, you should have spotted me the first night at the restaurant."

Not falling into Mary's trap, Sherlock continues, "How good a shot are you?"

Reaching for a gun, Mary asks, "How badly do you want to find out?"

"If I die here, my body will be found in a building with your face projected on the front of it. Even Scotland Yard could get somewhere with that. I want to know how good you are.... Go on. Show me. The doctor’s wife must be a little bit bored by now."

Angry, Mary takes a fifty pence coin from her bag and flicks it high into the air before she fires at it. Sherlock walks from the shadow behind her and requests, "May I see?"

Surprised, Mary turns to the other end of the house, where the shadowy figure is still seated. "It’s a dummy. I suppose it was a fairly obvious trick." She walks a few paces to get the coin and pitches it to Sherlock. The shot is perfect, squarely in the center of the coin.

"And yet, over a distance of six feet, you failed to make a kill shot. Sentiment, Mary?"

"You're not dead but you're hurting like hell, that's some comfort. I didn't plan on all this, you were supposed to die.  But you're an obstinate bastard."

"Why the last second tremor in your hand? Next time aim for the head. Did they teach you nothing at that assassin school of yours?" He replies with a tight smile.

"My boss spoke so much about your superior intellect, he specifically asked me to not shoot you in the head."

He smiles slightly. "So I own my life to Moriarty, this is a nice twist. But why did you miss by a few centimeters, why the last second hesitation. Say it."

"John." Sherlock looks at her with incomprehension "He loves you so much, the poor man, he was devastated when I met him. It took me months just to get him to look at me... The idea that I'd have to watch him mourn you a second time..." She lets go a disgusted little laugh.

"What are you talking about? How could faking my death affect your doctor? And you mean that it was voluntary that you attached yourself to him because he was devastated by my death?"

"How can you say things like that? He told me that you saved his life, that your adventures and the life that you shared was what brought him back to the world of the living.  Don't tell me that you don't comprehend how much that man depends on you and... Loves you? This is the reason why we kept our eyes on him."

 _So John Watson is not a part of this, but is merely part of his crazed fan club._ "And you fall in love with your project. An inversion of the Stockholm Syndrome... So human. And now, you want to finish the job? Why, because Moriarty is no longer of this world?"

"Because now John can’t ever know that I lied to him. It would break him and I would lose him forever – and, Sherlock, I will never let that happen."


	10. You don't have doubts about John, do you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the conversation between Mycroft and Greg when they left together in chapter 7.

(2 days ago - At the hospital)

 

 _"Inspector, do you have time for a coffee? We have a problem."_

Greg's demeanour is instantly more alert.  _This couldn’t be good…_ “Yeah, sure, my sole focus currently is Sherlock and the bastard who shot him. So, if it’s regarding that case, I can give you all the time you need.” 

“My office? It will be easier to talk there.” Lestrade shoots a glance toward Sherlock’s room. “Don’t worry, I’ve left some of my best men to watch over him.”

Satisfied by Mycroft Holmes' reassurances,  the inspector follows him to his car. The ride is silent, both man lost in their own thoughts. While Greg was trying to figure out who would want to kill Sherlock, too many ‘who’ for his own good, came to mind, Mycroft's mind was going in a different path.

 _What should I say to Lestrade? He’s friend to both of them… Three of them if I count Mary.  Oh God. How could I have been so blind about her? And Sherlock… should we try to bring back those memories, or is he better off as he is? I have already played too much with his mind, should I do it again?_ He looks in the direction of Gregory Lestrade.  _How strange that my brother, of all people, should have earned the devotion of such a man! Is there anything more to it than that?_ Mycroft felt curiously flustered at the idea but now was not the time to investigate that anomaly.  _No… I don’t think so.  It’s more of a relationship between brothers… Have I been so inadequate as older brother that Sherlock had to find a replacement? Though I have to admit he couldn’t have found better._

The car comes to an halt in the garage of a non-descript office building.  A short ride in an elevator up to floor - 7, Lestrade shakes his head in bewilderment, and they were seated in a comfortable office. No window but artificial natural light brightens the office and a huge painting of a young Elizabeth II fills the space on the wall behind a huge desk. Once a bottle of an old, great single malt was opened, Lestrade turns to Mycroft Holmes and asks “What do you want to talk about? Did you learn anything about what happened?” Still not sure where to begin,  _how frustrating!,_ Holmes takes a sip of his drink. Better to start with the more tangible facts.

“What do you know about Mary… Watson?” He was unable to hide how he loathes the idea of Mary Morstan being connected to John Watson.  _Oh God, and a child of his on the way… I must stop, I’m becoming far too sentimental about all this._

Lestrade cannot hide his astonishment from Mycroft. Of all of the things he was preparing himself to hear, that’s has to be the furthest thing from his mind! “Mary? Is this all about MARY?” 

“I am as amazed as you Detective Inspector.” He took another sip. “Sherlock just told me, an hour ago, that she was the one who shot him.” At this words, Greg was unable to stop an incredulous and fuming “HOW could you not see that coming Holmes? Mary been in our lives for over a year!” Mycroft turns his eyes away from the DI, experiencing a rare occurrence of shame and uneasiness.  _I should have known. I, of everyone, should have suspected something!_ He walks to his desk where a thin folder was waiting, far too thin. It contains every bit of data they have uncovered in the last hour on the women known as Mary Morstan. Not much, but enough to turn the stomach of any good man, and DI Gregory Lestrade was a very very good one.  “I must have a quick meeting with my team. I will leave you to read this to bring you up to speed as to what we are dealing with…”.  He gives the file to Lestrade, still avoiding making eye contact. “I am fully aware of how… inadequate… I have been, when it comes to helping my brother, Inspector, as well as all of you… But I’ll need all the help I can get to correct this mess, if you are still willing to cooperate with me and be kind enough to get over the fact that I endangered all your lives. For now at least…” He left quietly the room, leaving the DI alone.

Once the door closed, probably locked, he assumed, Greg finished his drink quickly but refrained from pouring himself another one.  _I must have a clear head!_ Putting everything aside that does not concern Mary Watson, he sits down and opens the file. 

The next thirty minutes or so, Greg falls into a world mostly unknown to him.  _Mary, a professional sniper… it’s unbelievable!_ For the CIA, then MI5 and MI6…followed by free lance work later. Her association with Moriarty probably started a little before Sherlock's fake suicide.  _Was she one of the snipers at the pool? Who knows…_   Everything was in front of him. Death certificate for the real Mary Morstan, fake birth certificate for John’s wife…  _I shouldn’t think like that, this… assassin, she is no more John’s wife than any criminal in our prison!_ A wave of pity for John washes over him.  _Poor man, he was so happy to finally turn the page after Sherlock.  First Sherlock came back from the dead… and now this._ Questions were piling up in his head, mainly about his next move.  _How to tell John about all this?_

“You’re probably asking yourself how to break the news to Doctor Watson?” Mycroft had returned to the room unheard by Greg, while he had been lost in his thoughts.   _How does he know what was I thinking? They both should go on tour as psychics..._ Greg shook his head, his feelings a jumble of worry, shock and his dry sense of humour.

“Yeah, that's one of the many questions I have.”

The government man walks to his desk and sits down in his leather chair “I’m sorry to say that the questions is not that simple. I’ve got to inform you of one more… hum… complication.” 

Lestrade moves to sit in a chair in front of Mycroft big mahogany desk, as his patience begins to run out.  “What is it? A communist plot, Mary is the illegitimate daughter of a foreign ambassador? Nothing can surprise me anymore. Do your worst!”.

Nothing prepares him for the simple question Mycroft Holmes asks him next: “Have you seen how Sherlock acts around John since the wedding?”

“What are you talking about? Are there any links between Mary shooting Sherlock in cold blood and Sherlock's behaviour towards John?”

“Please answer the question Inspector.”

Greg sits back in his chair, trying to understand where the man was going… He thought about everything that had happened since Sherlock's return.   _The restaurant, the argument, John anger getting the best of him. Three times. Then the terrorist plot and the thrill of the chase. Everything was falling in to place… except maybe for…_

“After John's cold reception on the first night, Sherlock was more subdued in his behaviour, especially in front of John.  It was a relief to have him back, but something wasn’t right…” After a pause, he looks at Mycroft directly in his eyes. “I know that I shouldn’t be aware of what happened while he was away. But I am a detective, and a good one, I think! I’m certain that everything wasn’t as ‘walk in the park’ as you both would like us to believe! Being undercover, chasing a gang in an unknown territory without any support…” Greg raised his hand to pacify Mycroft who was rising with a furious look in his eyes. “I know you did your best to help him while he was away but it’s not the same as being surrounded by a team and you know it!”  Holmes sits back in his chair with a crushed sigh. “So it's understandable that Sherlock was… different… chasing demons in his head without the help of his best friends.” After a pause, he continued “John and I should have been there for him more, and for that I am really sorry.”

“And then the wedding…” Mycroft begins again, trying to get the inspector to return to the main subject of the discussion.

Still lost in his thoughts, Greg recalls softly “The weeks before the wedding, after John asked Sherlock to be his best man, everything seems to be right again. Especially to people who do not really know Sherlock… He was enthusiastic, investing his time in the planning, eager to help… Too eager in fact! I didn’t tell John anything at the time, but it was obvious for me that Sherlock was doing all this to get back into John's good graces. As if he needs to change in order to be granted a full pardon…”  Mycroft was observing the DI carefully, not wanting to miss any of his observations, as Lestrade's thoughts reflected his own. It was the main reason he decided not to participate in the ceremony. Watching his brother act like a puppy who wanted to get a little attention was too much for him… “And after the wedding?”

“After the wedding…  The first month John wasn’t present at all. He didn’t call or text Sherlock – not that I know of. A few days after the ceremony, I went to 221b for a case and to check on Sherlock. It was strange, he was back to his old behavior.  As if the pain of John's wedding wasn’t there anymore - And don’t look at me like that, Mycroft Holmes, you know how Sherlock loves John! - It was as if John has never existed! The apartment was free of all the weddings things, how many seating plans do women need!, like it never existed. John's chair was gone... More curious, when I tried to talk about John and Mary wedding or the honeymoon he was dismissive… As if I was talking about a second cousin of mine and not his best friend. But…” The DI awkwardly paused his story.

“But?” Mycroft Holmes asks while standing tall on his chair, impatient to listen to what the DI has to tell.

“… You know, I almost understand Sherlock attitude after the wedding.” Greg voice had softened to a murmur. “It’s like after a separation or a divorce… It’s easier to do a sharp cut than to drag everything out for years… “ It was clear for the politician that the detective was thinking about his own divorce. “It was a real ‘Sherlockian’ thing to act as if this episode wasn’t real. But in the last few days, it has become far worse. The things he said to John, you have no idea! I personally asked him to tone down his aggressive behavior.  He watches John at his best as if he was a curiosity, at his worst like a nuisance who shouldn’t be there. Anderson told me what he said when you run a drug bust at 221b.  Something about John being a fanboy, a stalker? What is it all about? How can he deny all the great adventures they had together as a team?”

After a few minutes, Sherlock’s brother looks at Mary’s file then up to the DI. “Now Gregory, may I call you Gregory?, I’ll need for you to be as open minded as I know you can be.” Gregory nods, waiting for Mycroft to continue. “You know that Sherlock has a method to his intelligence. A way to store everything that may be useful to ‘The Work’ as he said?” 

Not liking where the conversation was heading, Lestrade replies. “Yes, I know. His Mind Palace.” 

With a profound sigh, Mycroft continue. “If you can store things that mean you can…” Greg eyes were now wide in apprehension as he completes Mycroft's thought “… erase them? No! You’re not saying that Sherlock voluntarily ERASED John Watson from his memory? How can it be possible? John is not something like a recipe or an actor's biography! He's a person who was important in his life, his mind, his… heart! You can't just delete someone like that!” Greg's voice was getting louder as his indignation grew.  _What’s wrong with you Holmes! Can’t deal with emotions like a normal human being?_

“I have a better understanding of my brother  than most, but I don’t know if it  was voluntarily or not, inspector. You must realize now the dilemma…”

“What should we say to John about Sherlock's recent behaviour?”

“… And about Mary.”  _Of course Mary… I almost forgot about Mary!_

“Last time I spoke with my brother, he was curious about John and Mary's relationship… He wanted to know if John was only a front for Mary or… an accomplice.”

“No!” Greg cries again. “He’s a better judge of character than most, he can't be thinking – even if he do not remember him – that John Watson is an assassin or a spy or whatever!”

“I know it’s hard for you to comprehend, but for Sherlock it is mandatory to investigate all of the possibilities and, sadly, John being an accomplice of Moriarty is a good possibility in the mind frame he is currently.”

“But… you. You have no doubts about John, do you?” The detective looks carefully in Mycroft's direction, hoping to catch all of the emotion in the face of the usually emotionless man. 

“I really don’t think that he is one of Ms. Morstan's collaborators.  And I’m certain that the news of her… misbehaviour past and present… will be really hard on him. But…” Mycroft was putting his words together carefully, Lestrade was an important ally in the day-to-day dealing with his brother. He’s also a friend to the doctor… He rises from his chair, his eyes not letting the DI out of his sights. “Detective inspector, do you really believe that John Watson can be a positive influence upon my brother? Think carefully before you said something because this is important for all that will follow…  Do you PERSONALLY think that Sherlock is a better person since his association with Doctor John Watson started and that it will continue to grow more positively once again... as soon as of all this Morstan business is concluded?”

Greg pushes his chair and stands up in front of the most powerful man in the UK and simply says “Yes.”

 

 

 


	11. Soon you’ll be able to see everything clearly, I promise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the confrontation between Mary and Sherlock at Leinsten Garden!
> 
> And a flashback prior in the evening... when John's world is shattered into a million pieces :-(

_(back at confrontation between Mary and Sherlock at Leinsten Garden...)_

_"Because now John can’t ever know that I lied to him. It would break him and I would lose him forever – and, Sherlock, I will never let that happen."_

Mary turns toward Sherlock, pointing her gun directly at his head.

"And the preservation of my precious mind?" Sherlock asks with a grin that temporarily masks the pain that radiates through his body.

"It's not funny! I'm going to kill you for real..." 

"Better to do it for real yeah, I am already pretty good at faking it...All this to protect your life with your doctor? To keep playing the housewife? Sentiment truly is a chemical defect found in the losing side. All this… it's kind of boring now..." 

"What are you talking about? You are the one who will lose! You will never have John, NEVER!" Mary starts to shake without being able to control herself, the emotions too violent to be contained. Her hand on the trigger, however  remains remarkably perfectly steady.  _Professionalism at its best even if she’s clearly delirious_ , Sherlock thought,  _too bad the gun is on me though_.

"You know, Moriarty always thought you didn’t have what it takes to do what's needed." Mary shakes her head at him, "Morality... such a bummer sometimes isn't it... But I know what you did while you were away. The cartel, the mercenary army, the warlords... I know how many you killed, everything that you destroyed... for the sake of saving your friends.  How will the public react if they know how you spent the last 2 years? That you are now... only damaged goods and a liability, unable to cope with what you’ve done. You thought Jim's trial was hard, you've seen nothing, yet!" Her defiant gaze never left Sherlock's eyes, she didn't blink once, the gun still pointing his head. 

"So I should let you kill me or you will spread rumours about my... trip? Is this all that you have on me?" Sherlock was nearly laughing.   _As if the opinion of the masses and the press was important! I wouldn't be able to work with Greg for a while, but otherwise... Or I can purchase a little cottage near Janine and look after the bees._ His mind was slowly floating away in a pain induced stupor before Mary's strong voice brings him back to reality.  _Oh right, a gun and a crazy woman. What was the plan again? Is she still talking?_  

"And by publicly confirming that you're the 'avenger' that destroyed so much criminal activity in the last two years... the world would not be big enough to hide you from the syndicate that would be looking for you, your friends, and your family."  _But not John, I will guarantee that no one is going to touch John_. A smile now spread over Mary's face.

"But you've forgot something..." The menace in her voice effectively wakes up Sherlock, but the detective's voice was now barely audible because of the throbbing pain. 

"What?... What have I forgot?" Mary asks almost worried.

"The dummy." 

At this word, one of Mycroft's best agents, who had been sitting in the chair, takes control of Mary by pushing her onto the floor. Her arms where rapidly shackled, her gun safely taken away. 

“You'll pay for that, HOLMES!" Furious, Mary was now screaming, her voice echoing in the hallway. 

A perfectly calm "Which one?" was the only reply that Mary receives as an impeccably dressed Mycroft walks out of the darkness, with a stunned John at his side.  

That is the last thing she sees before she is pushed into a van and the darkness falls upon her. 

 

(earlier that evening – Baker Street)

_With a last look at the place where his chair used to sit, John put the phone at his ear to talk with Sherlock's brother._

“Mycroft? Did you find him?”

“Doctor Watson, could you please join me. We need to have a conversation… My car is waiting in front of 221B.” Mycroft Holmes says before he ends the call.

“What the hell!” John looks at Mrs. Hudson. “Why always so dramatic? Mycroft is waiting for me outside, I’ll go talk to him and will let you know as soon as I know something… I promise.”

“I know John, be careful… It can be dangerous. You know how everything always ends with you two…” Mrs. Hudson replies with an anxious but kind smile. “And remember what I said. If you’ve got the chance to be near Sherlock again, listen. Allow him to confide in you, his best friend…” John was going to protest about the whole notion of being best friends with a man who clearly currently loathes him… “Don’t think about what happened over the last days, in the last month… Think about what you shared before and everything will be alright… Now go, Mycroft is not a patient man and he does like to be dramatic when he is forced to wait for something, or someone.”

Muttering about where Mycroft Holmes can put his dramatic flair, John rushes down the stairs and opens the door of the black sedan. Lestrade was already there with Mycroft and… “Sherlock!” John happily says spontaneously before adding more heatedly, “Where the hell have you been? Why have you left the damn hospital? Are you trying to die for real now!” The doctor is furious and before he starts again the voice of an exhausted but firm Lestrade resonates in the car. “John. Listen to me for a minute. We’ve got something to tell you.”  Unable to stay put, John is sitting on the edge of the seat looking at Sherlock with a disbelieving glare.  _The nerve of the man!_

The car left the curb for an unknown location. _Once more, I am the last to know what’s going on!_

Lestrade exchanges a stare with Mycroft that speaks volumes.  _Are we really doing this now? And why I’m the one who is doing the talking?_ How many times had he communicated the death of a loved one… it is a part of the job when you are a policeman… But this… This is something else.  With a compassionate look to his friend, the DI starts with a simple “How are you doing, John?”

“What? What kind of question is that!”  _Unbelievable…_ John tries to stay calm, thinking about all that Greg and Mrs. Hudson have tell him in the last hours.  “… I am better, now that I know that Sherlock is alive… Where did you find him?” 

“In fact, I found them. Everything went as planned…” Sherlock stops talking when his brother touches his arm to gain his attention.

_Of course… Another grand scheme that I am not aware of!_ John thinks, trying to keep his anger in check.

“John…” Lestrade starts again “Do you know where Mary is?”

“Is Mary in any danger?” 

“No, no, John… Everything is fine with Mary... Sort of… ” An uncomfortable Greg replies to John's concern while Sherlock can’t restrain a derisive chuckle that dissolves into a cough. 

“What is all this… you better start to explain yourself because I’m tired of those games!”

“Your devoted little wife is the one who shot me. Happy now?” The detective explains with a bored expression.

“SHERLOCK!” both Lestrade and Mycroft shout at the same time!

“We don’t have time to be delicate. He’s a bloody army doctor, he’ll get over it.” He mumbles before turning back to look outside.  _I’m dying here, could we please do not fuss about sensitivity?_ It was so hard to stay focused… 

John doesn’t listen to Greg who tries to calm him or to the quarrelsome voice of Mycroft who was asking to his brother to 'please stop talking now'… Only one thing was in his mind.  _Why her? WHY her. Why HER._ The last few days were floating all around him. _Mary's trivializing attitude when Sherlock was found in the drug den. Clair-de-la-lune… Her perfume… everywhere in Magnussen office. Her dry, unconcerned tone when he told her that Sherlock had left the hospital… The surgeon had asked if Mary was Sherlock’s wife, because her name was the first thing that he said after he escapes death once again… The way she left home quickly to search for Sherlock...Oh My God… It can’t be._

Turning his back on Lestrade, he asks the source of all information directly. “Mycroft. What do you have on her? If it’s real… If it’s true… Why?” 

Mycroft answers with one word that sums up everything: “Moriarty.”

“Moriarty…” the name sent John into a near catatonic state, his voice only a murmur. “It can’t be. He’s dead… You KNOW he's dead… And… and… I’ve known Mary for a year… Only a little more than a year… Not that long I know but… It can't be! We met a year after Moriarty's death and Sherlock's … suicide.” He pleads with Lestrade, but hope is slowly dying in his eyes. “Greg, tell me it’s not true…. It can’t be my fault that Sherlock has been shot… Not dying again because of Moriarty... because of me… Please… Not because I brought Mary into our lives.”  

“I’m sorry mate, I’ve read the file… She used to be a secret agent, after going rogue for a time she started to work with Moriarty. We think she was one of the snipers at the pool… She was probably in charge of looking after you in case Sherlock returned.” The inspector paused, choosing his words carefully. “We were all fooled… Mycroft… me… the reason is that she’s really in love with you. She was probably not expecting that, you know… Falling in love. Nobody can fake love for so long.”

Watching the form of his friend press upon the window, clearly suffering because his WIFE shot him, is worse for the doctor than to think about Mary. For now at least…

“Oh God… the baby…” John turns toward Sherlock and stares at him, but the detective was avoiding eye contact, staying silent as his brother asks. The shock over Mary mixes with the confusion over Sherlock's attitude in the last few days cause a renewal of John’s anger... “Sherlock! SHERLOCK! Look at me! YOU, of everyone, should have seen something! Why did you let me marry her, if you said something to me as soon as you met her, as soon as you had a doubt, she’ll probably wouldn’t be pregnant right now! You’ve done so much to protect me but you let me marry an assassin and fathered a child with her!” It was enough, too much, the doctor finally breaks and sobs in Lestrade's arms. 

Confused, Sherlock looks at his brother… hoping that Mycroft can provide an explanation for all of this messy sentiment.   _Why does John Watson think it’s all his fault?_  He was so tired, so in pain…  _I can’t think anymore_.  Holding his brother's hand, Mycroft whispers a soft “Close your eyes, brother mine, try to sleep a little… I’m sorry, tonight's ordeal is not over yet. Soon you’ll be able to see everything clearly, I promise. One last thing to do.”   

Mycroft and Gregory look at each other, hoping that the plan they choose to follow does not bring any more pain.

“We're in this together Mycroft?” Lestrade quietly asks over the head of his distraught friend.

“Yes, we are.” Holmes replies without any doubt in his voice, still holding Sherlock's hand. Pushing the communication button with his other hand, he commands the chauffeur, “Leinster Gardens."

 


	12. I make him laugh again and I was lost…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month later, Christmas time at the country cottage of Mycroft and Sherlock's parents!
> 
> As well as flashback on what happen in the weeks between Leinsten Garden and Christmas from different perpectives.
> 
> Anyone fancy a cup of punch? ;-)

_(Leinster Gardens- After Mary is in custody)_

As soon as the van with Mary Is out of sight, paramedics run to Sherlock who is a moment away of collapsing. White as a sheet, he loses consciousness as soon as he is placed on the stretcher.  Mycroft stays near the ambulance, not letting his brother out of his sight. 

"Go with Sherlock, I will take care of John, we're going to my place as I don't think he would like to go to his house... or to Baker street for that matter." Lestrade offers.

"Many thanks for your presence tonight, you've given me the opportunity to focus solely on Sherlock.... And I don't think that Doctor Watson loves me very much at the moment." 

"Is he going to be all right?" 

"The best doctors are waiting for him, everything should be fine..." But Mycroft's tone was insecure and worried. Sentiments that Lestrade never thought could be associated with the politician.

"You know which doctor he truly needs..."

"One thing at the time, Detective inspector. Once his health is back we'll see to the rest."

"Yeah, but you’re not the one who has to deal with John..." Greg turns his head in direction of the doctor; he is looking completely lost. He adds "... poor man, his world collapsing around him and the only thing he can probably focus on is Sherlock on the stretcher without him at his side." 

Anthea interrupts the discussion. "Sir, they are ready to go... and Ms. Morstan is now in custody as planned. They are waiting for your instructions."

Going into the ambulance to stay with his brother, Mycroft Holmes looks one last time at John Watson. The man is now seated in the back of the sedan, probably guided there by Anthea, with a completely blank face. 

"Keep an eye on him, help him process everything about his wife, child, and the lies of his life... But keep it simple and don't go in to much detail. I'll take care of Ms. Morstan  _personally_  as soon as my brother is out of ICU." Holmes' eyes were once more devoid of any emotion.  "If you feel you need to talk to John Watson about Sherlock... condition... you've got my permission. But the subject mustn’t be discussed with my brother before I say it's time. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, I understand. I won't force the discussion on John but if I feel that it can help him to understand more of what has happened in the last few days I will. At least it can be some comfort to him that Sherlock wasn't totally himself recently. Go... They're waiting for you!"

The ambulance door closes and the DI walks back to the car where John waits.   _Where do I start?_

*

The same night, in Appledore, Magnussen is watching with delight as Mary is roughly pushed into the black van. His gaze then follows the paramedics that work to stabilize Sherlock Holmes... Data passes rapidly in front of his eyes. Data about Mycroft Holmes... So many pressure points! 

 _Hummm, and how bad your brother was while he was away... I don't think your associates would have approved... And that secret sister of yours... Tsk tsk tsk..._ He looks at the screen with a Machiavellian smile, the images now in a loop. Mycroft jumping in the ambulance and holding his brother's hand... Mycroft jumping in the ambulance and holding his brother's hand... over and over and over.

_(A month later, at Christmas time at the country cottage of Mycroft and Sherlock's parents)_

Christmas carols are playing endlessly on the radio right beside an exasperatef Mycroft. “Oh, dear God, it’s only two o’clock. It’s been Christmas Day for at least a week now.” He looks again at his watch with hope. “How can it only be two o’clock? I’m in agony.” 

Sherlock is ignoring his brother's tantrum.  A copy of The Guardian in hands, he reads an article about the suicide of Lord Smallwood…  _Too bad I was in hospital dying instead of helping Lady Smallwood get back the letters…_ He surveys the room in front of him. The familiarity of the scene, his mother making dinner, his father doing whatever he was doing and even Mycroft's bad temper, all of this was comfort. Peace. Home.  _God knows I need it after the last month! I never want to go back to a hospital, ever!_

“Mikey, is this  _your_  laptop?” 

“Yes mother. On which depends the security of the free world and you’ve got potatoes on it!”

“Well, you shouldn’t leave it lying around if it’s so important.”

She moves around the table, picking up crackers, then checks the oven to make sure everything was baking as it should be.

“Why are we doing this? We never  _do_  this.”

 _“_ We are here because Sherlock is home from hospital and we are  _all_  very happy.”

 _“_ Am  _I_  happy too? I haven’t checked.” Mycroft replies with a fake smile, but warmth in his eyes.

“Behave, Mike.” Mommy Holmes says, menacing her son with a spatula.

"‘Mycroft’ is the name you gave me, if you could possibly struggle all the way to the end."

“Mummy? Do you want some punch?” Sherlock intervenes before his mother can explain for the thousandth time why her sons are called Mycroft and Sherlock, his hand pointing to the bowl on the buffet. 

“Yes please. But you shouldn’t be up; stay put near the fire, darling and relax. Mycroft will take care of it.”

“I’ll do it, Mrs. Holmes.” Lestrade says while entering the room, a big smile on his face, thrilled to be inside the Holmes household.  _And the punch is like my grandma used to make! That's brilliant!_

“Oh! Thank you, dear. Not absolutely sure why you’re here though.” She looks from Lestrade to her oldest son with a conniving smile, while drinking her punch.

“ _I_  invited him. That is reason enough!” Mycroft replies while a suspicious pink flush spread over his cheeks. 

“ _Lovely_  when you bring your friends round, Mike.” Sherlock winks mischievously at his brother. 

“Shut up, Sherlock!”

“ _Stop_  it, Mycroft! Somebody’s put a bullet in my boy and if I ever find out who, I shall turn absolutely monstrous.” Then she leaves the room, looking for her husband to give him a cup of punch. 

As soon as she left the room, Sherlock and Mycroft exchange a knowing smile.

“What? What is it? I think it's safer for everyone when you are faking indifference... What have you done?” Lestrade asks… before falling asleep on the kitchen table.

Mycroft jumps quickly to be certain that the DI was comfortable enough and adds a pillow under the man’s head.

“Sentiment, brother mine?”

“Shut up, Sherlock!”

Getting up with a little spasm in his torso, the detective took his brother's computer from his brother's extended arm.  

 _“_ I’m glad you’ve not given up on the Magnussen business Sherlock, the man is a reptile.” 

“Are you really glad?”

Mycroft pause and looks at his brother “He never caused too much damage to anyone important. He’s far too intelligent for that. He’s a business-man, that’s all, and occasionally useful to us. A necessary evil – not a dragon for you to slay… But now it is personal, and he has the death of Lord Smallwood on his hands.”

 _“_ Is that what you think of me? A dragon slayer?” Sherlock happily repeats his brother’s words.  _I bet I look fantastic in a full armor with a sword! I may finally accept that damn knighthood!_

 “No. It’s what  _you_  think of yourself.” Mycroft laughs, as he watches his brother frown. “I have, by the way, a job offer I should like you to decline.” 

 “I decline your kind offer.”

 “I shall pass on your regrets.”

 “What was it?” Sherlock questions, a little bit curious.

 “MI6 – they want to place you back into Eastern Europe. An undercover assignment that would prove fatal to you in, I think, about six months.”

 Sherlock looks at his brother with surprise. “Then why don’t you want me to take it?”

 “It’s tempting ... but on balance you have more utility closer to home.”

“Utility!” he sneers. “How do  _I_  have utility?” 

“There’s always some locals dragons… Also, your loss would break my heart.”

_“_ What the  _hell_  am I supposed to say to that?!” 

“Merry Christmas?” Mycroft replies with a smile, helping Sherlock into his coat.

 “You  _hate_  Christmas.” 

With a false surprised look, the government man smiles warmly. “Yes. Perhaps there was something in the punch.”

“Or in the Detective Inspector's eyes!”

“Shut up, Sherlock! Let's go! You've got an appointment.”

As they reach the door of the house, everyone profoundly asleep for at least few hours, a car stops in the alleyway.

“John Watson? What the hell is he doing here?”

“I’ve called him, brother mine, we needs all the help we can. Be careful, and follow the plan for the love of God!"

 

 

**_Flashback to the events of the last month… _ **

_   _

_(Leinster Gardens – After Sherlock and Mycroft leave for the hospital)_

Greg walks slowly towards the car, asking Anthea to leave them alone for a minutes.

"John?"

"How is Sherlock?... The paramedics, did they tell you something?" 

"Don't worry about him for now John, he's in good hands and Mycroft will supervise everything. The best medical team is waiting for him... "

"Why does he run off from hospital at the first place? Why risk his life?... Is it... Is it because he wants to find... Mary?" his voice broke on the name of his wife before he rise his chin defiantly. "... or whatever her bloody name is!"

"John... let's go to my place, ok? You need to rest, everything can wait tomorrow..." 

"No. I want to go to Baker Street. Now." 

Once in the familiar comfort of his old flat, John allows himself to breathe deeply. Greg leaves him to go in the kitchen to make tea...  _Tea, the solution to any problem. Don't talk, don't scream, don't punch... Drink some fucking tea!_

He hears Mrs. Hudson, asking questions about Sherlock. The voice of Lestrade who quietly explains that everything is ok, Sherlock is in hospital and he's going to be back soon.   _Everything is not ok…_ Not listening to anyone he opens the door of Sherlock's bedroom and falls in an exhaustion induced sleep. 

 

_(1 week after Leinster Gardens)_

_A week, it's been a week. 7 days since my life was destroyed by the woman who was my lifesaver, my bringer of light after the year in the dark that followed Sherlock's disappearance.  7 days and 7 nights. The nights... Why couldn't I just sleep and forget everything for few hours?_

John is alone in 221B, grateful for the solitude. An edited version of Mary's file is in front of him, on the coffee table. Even if the doctor tries to look at it as if it was a stranger, a client asking for help against Magnussen who threatened her new life... John cant't.  He knows that Sherlock would look at it, even if it were only to spite his brother and have an opportunity to poke the businessman!  _Oh God, that man is a menace!_  A chuckle rises as he imagines Sherlock protecting an assassin just for the thrill of it, to play with a worthy opponent and the added bonus of annoying his brother.  His quiet laugh ended as soon as his eyes stop on one of the paper in the file. The medical report of the woman he knew as Mary Morstan. A life of broken bones, knife fights _... How_   _is it possible that I was so blind?_ Every little scar had a funny excuse: bike rides gone wrong, ski trip that ended at the hospital, boys that were playing rough at the orphanage... And the biggest lie of all, written in black on white and attested to by an ObGyn:  _Not pregnant, has never been._  A slight mixup with her pills, little clues for Sherlock to find, increasing her weight slightly...  _But why? We were married! I wasn't going anywhere!_

The loss of the phantom child was a permanent weight in John heart as well as a relief.  The sadness of the loss of the hope the new life was bringing brightened by the relief that no child of him will come into this world mothered by an assassin who wished his best friend dead! Sherlock, everything always comes back to Sherlock... The vision of his too thin frame of the stretcher was always on his mind, impossible to forget.  The last word they exchange was ones of anger.  The words still resonate in his ear...  _YOU, of everyone, should have seen something! YOU, of everyone, should have seen something!_ John will never forgot the look on the detective face... clueless of the reason of the accusations but too exhausted and in pain to protest.  The way he looks to Mycroft, asking silently for help to deal with the mad man in front of him!  _Asking Mycroft help to deal with ME!_

Lestrade knocks on the door softly before entering the flat.  He brings food every day and makes sure that John eats a sufficient amount of it. Always talking of little things... but mostly of Sherlock. Knowing that Greg was seeing the detective while he was pushed away was torture for the doctor. Thinking about him alone in a hospital, with no one to talk to or to calm him when he decided that he had enough was...  _I've never felt so useless! I should be with him!_

"It's Sherlock, right?" John asks Greg out of the blue.

"What?"  

"It's him. He does not want to see me... He's the one who asked that I stay away from the hospital?" The defeated tone of the doctor was heart breaking to his friend.

"No... Don't say that. You know that Mycroft is control freak enough; he's the one who is keeping Sherlock in a secure location. Even I have not been able to talk to him!"  _I've seen the detective plenty of time though, but now is not the time to be specific._ "Anyway, why does you think Sherlock will push you way?"

After a long pause, John looks sadly but with a determined gaze at his friend. 

"Because it's his right.... I know I wasn't there for him when he needed me, blinded by my anger. I recognize that the feelings I have for Sherlock are more worship than friendship... I mourn him like a lover!" Greg put his hand on John shoulder, waiting for what ever will follow... "I realize now it was selfish to ask him to be my best man in a wedding that was changing everything between us. After the reception I didn't talk to him or text for a whole month... And... and... It's my fault if he got shot. It's all my fault."

"No, it wasn't! Mary is a professional sniper who invaded our lives like a parasite. This is not your fault..."

"But, why didn't he says anything? He must have realized that something was wrong... He must..."

"He caused you so much pain at St. Bart's... He was probably only wanted you to have the life you had always dream of."

"But at what cost?" John asks Greg knowing that they both know that the price he paid for this vision of the perfect family life was currently recovering in the hospital... 

*

If it wasn't for the camera mounted to the ceiling and the big electronic doorknob, the place could looks like a dorm room.  _I've seen worse_ , Mary thought. 

She's been in this room for 1 week now... 7 days... too many hours.  No interrogation, no menace... Just being alone. Alone with in her mind the look of disgust John had on his face when he saw her.  Looking down at her belly, one more lie among the mountain of lies.. It was so easy to fake the symptoms at the wedding for Sherlock to found them. She watched the detective all the evening, spreading little clues for him to process. The wine, the food... Waiting for his despair when he finds out. That was fun.   _But John... I'm so sorry... I've destroyed everything. What the hell was he doing in Magnussen's office! It's his fault!_ Nearly crying, Mary quickly composes a serene attitude when the door of her cells open.   _Finally!_

Four guards walk in the room, one holding manacles and a cotton bag.  Once her hands and feet are solidly restrained, the bag is put over her head.  They walk through many corridors, go down and up stairs until Mary couldn't map anything in her head. They push her onto a chair, and then attach the manacles to a metal table.  After the bag is removed, Mary opens her eyes slowly.  

"Hello, Mr. Holmes. It's nice to you to finally visit. Is your brother well? Not dead by any chance?”

  

 

_(2 weeks after Leinster Gardens)_

_I truly hate black sedans now._ John thinks as a car stops in front of him while he is returning from a walk in the park, trying to clear his mind and avoiding Mrs. Hudson who keeps fussing around him.  

“Doctor Watson, would you join me? I have something that I would like to show you?” Mycroft Holmes asks while opening the door, John sighs as he notes Lestrade is already in the car. 

 _They're becoming good buddies; I don't know what Sherlock will think about that?_ “Is it about Sherlock health? If not, I don’t want to talk to you right now…”  _I don’t want to talk about Mary… not now, not ever._

"Please get in the car, John." Greg says without looking in John's direction, not wanting to show how uncomfortable he is about what going on.   _Oh God... what now?_

Once the door closes, Mycroft eyes stay on the doctor.  _Be brave, doctor Watson, the journey is not over yet._

 *

Thirty minutes later, Holmes is comfortably installed in a chair in front of a tired and defeated Mary.

“How are you this morning, Ms. Morstan?” Mycroft is still using her false name, even though her real identity had been discovered days ago.  _The life of Mary Morstan is her Achilles’ heel. Better to stick with that name for now._

“Is it morning already?”  

“Yes, it is.  You’ve been our  _gues_ t for 14 days now.” 

The amount of information that was gathered in the last 2 weeks was massive. False identities, jobs and contracts, for whom she worked, when, etc... Partially gathered by MI6 but mostly collected directly from the ex-assassin who is acting like she’s got nothing to lose now.

“Yesterday, we stopped after the death of your boss, Moriarty, and the fall of Sherlock Holmes at St. Bart's… Were you the sniper attached to John Watson that day?”

A glimpse of pain pass rapidly through her eyes at the mention of John “… Yes. I was.”

“What were your instructions if Sherlock Holmes… committed suicide?” Mycroft, even if he was trying to keep his emotion in check, was barely able to avoid a hint of hate in his voice. 

“Jim was afraid that Holmes would be able to organize a stunt or something… So he asked me to keep looking after John Watson, knowing that he would be the first person who your brother would contact if he came back… Besides you of course, but it was easier to focus on Watson then on you. Even with the additional security you put around him.”

"And Magnussen? What is his role in this big scheme of yours?"

"Magnussen? Nothing really... He knows about my past, not everything, but enough to jeopardize everything. With your brother wanting to confront him, I had to make sure that all the files about me are destroyed..." Her anger rises at the thought of John's friend who messed up everything for her: Her relationship with John, her vendetta against Magnussen. "Everything was perfect with John until YOUR brother came back!"

“Let's get back to John, please. How did you proceed?”

“I had a steady income, a trust fund that Moriarty discreetly set up for me before… in case of his death. I moved near my target, following him when he left Baker Street for a shitty apartment.  I was keeping an eye on him, constantly… watching as he fells into profound sadness, then depression…” She turns toward her captor, nearly murmuring. “… He was so defeated… I’ve seen him before. Witty, giving your brother back his own coin, courageous… At the pool it was magnificent to see them interact together. No wonder why Jim was so jealous of John! It was truly an honour to assist at the scene... At the devotion they had for each other... Ready to die for one another without a blink…” She raises her head to looks directly into the camera in the corner of the room before screaming at the top of her lungs. “Sherlock Holmes, I hope that you’ll listen to this one day. YOU. DESTROYED. THAT. MAN.” Her voice chokes up as tears were falling freely down her face. 

After a few minutes, Mycroft pushes a glass of water in her direction. “After a year, you’d become a nurse in his surgery?”

“Yes. It was pretty easy to get a false diploma. A few months of intense training to know the basics… And I was working with him. No blank spot, I was able to check on him inside and out.” Her mind was clearly back to the surgery, as a small smile appears on her expression despite the tears still on her cheeks.

“And then…”

“I made him laugh again and I was lost…”

 

In a room near by on a TV, John was looking at the woman who was still legally his wife for the first time in 2 weeks. His eyes dry, his thoughts completely on Sherlock.  Her excuses, her pledge that everything was done because she loves him, completely vanished behind the treachery and the violence.  On the contrary, listening to Mary's jealous rage, the way she talks about them before all this, had created the only hope he had for the future in the last 2 weeks. Maybe everything is not lost; maybe something can be saved... Something real.

 

_(3 weeks after Leinster Gardens)_

Sherlock was sitting at a restaurant, eating slowly. Still in his hospital gown and with his morphine drip attached to his arm.  _They should rethink all that hospital gown business; it's pretty cold even with a t-shirt under it_. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize immediately that a man is now sitting in front of him.  _Magnussen. Good._  

"Shouldn’t you be in hospital?"

"I am in hospital. This is the canteen." 

"Is it?"

"In my opinion, yes. Have a seat."

"Thank you."

"I’ve been thinking about you."

"I’ve been thinking about YOU."

"Really?" As the pain was slowly becoming more and more present, Sherlock pushes on the morphine control three times to speed up things. "I want to see Appledore, where you keep all the secrets, all the files, everything you’ve got on everyone. I want you to invite me."

Magnussen looks seriously into the detective eyes. "What makes you think I’d be so careless?"

"Oh, I think you’re a lot more ‘careless’ than you let on."

"Am I?"

"It’s the dead-eye stare that gives it away. Except its not dead-eyed, is it?" He extends his arms to takes Magnussen's glasses. "You're reading, these are connected to Appledore. How does it work? Built-in flash drive? 4G wireless?" He tries the glasses few minutes before he gives them back to Magnussen a confused look clouds his face. "They’re just ordinary spectacles."

"Yes – they are."

Watching Sherlock carefully he notes the pain, the tremor in the hand as he resists with difficulty to raise the level morphine even more.  With a smile the text 'PRESSURE POINT: > MORPHINE (ADD TO FILE)' appears in front of his eyes.

Reaching into Sherlock's plate, the businessman picks the olives, one by one. "You underestimate me, Mr. Holmes." He then washes his fingers in Holmes glass of water.

"Impress me, then. Show me Appledore... And destroy everything you've got on me." 

"Everything’s available for a price Mr. Holmes. Are you making me an offer?" 

"More like a present."

"And what are you giving me for Christmas, Mr. Holmes?"

"My brother." 

*

"I want to see Sherlock!" was the first thing John says to Greg as soon as he puts the dinner on the kitchen table. "It's been 3 weeks, I've been patient long enough!" 

"John... is not that simple!" 

"He's not well enough? If he is still not in better shape by now I MUST go to the hospital!!"

Grinning inwardly at the thought of Sherlock's escapade to a restaurant for lunch, Greg didn't sound really convincing "He's better, but he needs time."

"Time for what?... You can tell me if he really hates me now." 

"No, no... Don't say that."  _God, where is Mycroft when I need him_   

"Just tell me Greg... Either he hates me or you're hiding something."

With a sigh,  _it's looks like I'm the lucky one who's going to have that conversation about Sherlock spring cleaning of his Mind Palace_ ; Greg puts his coat  back on. "Fancy a beer or 2?"  _Or 12._

 

_(4 weeks after Leinster Garden)_

Magnussen is thinking about the discussion he had with the younger Holmes:  _Junky, driven on adrenaline but not so easy to manipulate. Always hard when someone just don't care._   But his brother... that is something else.  His main pressure point is his brother. If I have control of the younger, I've got the older, then I've got the UK.  

He isn't able to get someone inside the facility where the detective recuperates from the gunshot wound, but he has plenty of footage of an angry Mycroft Holmes talking to Greg Lestrade in the hospital parking lot.  One of many conversations is running in front of his eyes. 

_"My brother is incorrigible!"_

_"Don't talk like that Mycroft, he's wounded..."_

_"No, he's getting better and his SWEET temperament of his is coming back." Mycroft was talking with an exasperate gesture of the hand._

_"But he must realize how much you love him, how much you care... He is not an imbecile!"_

_"He's a bloody idiot! He hates me, everything is always my fault!"_

Mmmmm... Playing the Holmes brothers one against the other is going to be fun.  

 *

"Hello Mary, how are you today?" 

"Always so polite, Mr. Holmes... it's all for nothing you know, I've told you everything. There is nothing left."

"Yes, and we thank you for your... cooperation in the last 4 weeks."

"What are you going to do with me? You can't put me in a regular prison and you know it, you can't keep me here forever... What have you planned? A firing squad at the London Tower?" 

A light smile spread on the politician's face...  _Ahhh back in the good old days! Less paperwork... If no other alternatives are possible, there is always Sherrinford. Will see._

"I have... options. But I'm ready to risk a lot to give you an opportunity to redeem yourself."

"I'm listening..." 

"How real is your love for John Watson?"

   

_(Back to current time, at the cottage)_  

John gets get out of the car, looking at Sherlock. He still hasn't been able to wrap his head around the surreal discussion he just had with Lestrade about the detective. His friend. His best friend... The only problem is that he doesn’t know it. 

"Hi Sherlock, Mycroft asked me to come here. Is it your parents’ house?"

"Yes... but my parents are taking a little nap currently." A tight smile appears on Sherlock lips.  "Sorry about that, Doctor Watson." 

"Oh, ok. Where are we going? Do we need the car?"

A helicopter was now flying low in front of the cottage. 

"Our ride." Sherlock explains with a bigger grin. "Still time to back off. Are you coming?"

"Where?"

"It appears that Magnussen has footage of what happened in Leinster Gardens and... he is now threatening Mycroft and me to leak info about my... time abroad." _And your little adventure with an international assassin!_

"But if that info gets out, you're going to be in danger! As well as your family!"   _Oh God... All that because of Mary!_

"Do you want to correct a part of the mess Ms. Morstan made?"

"Yeah, of course I do." 

"Good, because this is going to be incredibly dangerous. One false move and we’ll have betrayed the security of the United Kingdom and be in prison for high treason. Magnussen is quite simply the most dangerous man I’ve ever encountered, and the odds are comprehensively stacked against us."

"OK. What the hell have you done?"

"... A deal with the devil."

"But it’s Christmas!" John comments indignantly.

"Yeah. I feel the same." The detective says, unable to contain a big grin. Realizing that it wasn't probably what Doctor Watson was meaning... "Oh, you mean it’s actually Christmas! Sorry... not good?"

Never two words have ever-sound better to John. That spontaneous 'not good?' encapsulates everything that they were once, everything and more that they could become.  _Oh God Sherlock, let me back in your life. Please fight to get me back, fight to remember me. I  swear I will never laugh about the Solar System again... Never. And could you please just call me 'John'. Just once!_

John looks at his friend with all the friendship, devotion and love he can convey and asks, "Where are we going then?" 

"Appledore. The Game,  _John_ , is on!"

 


	13. Knowing is owning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John thinks about the conversation he had with Greg about Sherlock... dysfunctional Mind Palace. 
> 
> And... Appledore!

In the helicopter, John is looking at his friend with amazement. The man was out of the hospital for what, a few days? And he was nearly bouncing in his seat, happy to tackle a criminal mastermind. Excited at the perspective of a puzzle to solve, an enemy to outsmart. His mind went back to the conversation he had with Greg at the pub.   _My God, has it only been a few days ... It's feels like years..._

 

 

 _(Few days ago, in a pub near Baker Street)_

 

"What are you saying?" John jumps out of the chair shaking the table in his haste. Luckily, they were in a secluded spot, far from the other customers.

"John, sit down... Please. It is already complicated enough to explain - God knows I don't understand anything of the  _technical_  side - but this is what Mycroft told me: You are no longer in Sherlock's Mind Palace. His memories of you don't go further back than a few weeks." This was hard to understand even for the DI, who saw the signs clearly once Mycroft had told him. Sherlock's brother had questioned the detective with great care, not wanting to cause any stress and quickly confirm the extent of the damage. "This is why he's acting around you like that, for him the first time he met you was in the... drug den."

"But, how can he do that! You can't just... wipe out someone like that!" But, being honest, John realizes that he has seen his friend do exactly that numerous times.  John recalled suddenly, Sherlock's words early on:  _'This is my hard drive and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful. Really useful._ ' resonate all around him and he falls back into his chair.

"Are you all right, mate? John?" Greg was watching his friend with worry.  _This is too much for him... Damn you Sherlock! First not realizing who Mary was... then to 'delete' John._ But he kept his thoughts to himself.  _Now is not the time._

John was now shaking, unable to reply to Greg. He closed his eyes and murmured, "I wasn't... useful anymore."

"Don't say that! John... You know it's not that. You know him, you're his best friend!" Lestrade was struggling, unable to find the words to help his friend understand. The relationship between the detective and the doctor has always been intense. Symbiotic but... un-defined. 

He lays his arms on the table, trying to be as near as possible to his friend. "John, the relationship you had, have, with Sherlock is a special one. I know we teased you both all the time, that Donovan and Anderson have often said awful things... But you know, what is at the heart of all our comments? It's jealousy." John raises his head and watches his friend with bafflement. "What? Oh no, no, not jealousy like that... Even if all the women in NYS, and few guys, dreamed of what's under that coat! Until he opens his mouth, of course! No offence John, but Sherlock is quite sexy. Oh God, don't tell Mycroft I said that!" Greg was smiling smugly and John, for the first time in weeks, laughs. 

"But seriously John, we are jealous. Jealous that you, after we tried for years, had that kind of instant rapport with Sherlock. To have him talk to you, listen to your opinion... The respect he showed you, it was the first time I've ever seen him act like that." Greg was thinking back to an aggressive, impatient and heartless detective... How much he changes.

"You changed him for the better, John. You gave him balance, a compass, the will to stay clean..." 

"Maybe before... St. Bart’s. But even if it's an accident, that he didn't erased me on purpose, what about Mary! The months before the wedding, he spent more time with her than me and he NEVER realized?!" The sadness of not being important to the one person who mattered the most in his live was staggering... "He just decided he didn't care... Wiping me out completely was just a step further."

"I don't think it's that, sincerely. That's not for me to say but... have you ever thought for a moment that maybe the git loves you.  Loves you so much that he overlooked everything just to let you have what he thought you wanted... you needed. Not being an  egoistical asshole for once and thinking only about you..." 

 _The only thing I needed was him and he left me..._ "Sherlock? Have you ever seen him in love with someone? Except maybe Irene Adler..." 

"Come on John... Be honest about that and give it a thought and don't hide behind that woman. When he came back, he was feeling so alone. I felt it, Molly also... He was missing you so much. He probably decided to go all the way with the wedding to make you happy, even if you couldn't be happy with him." 

"I don't know, Greg. It's too much right now..."  _Thinking that maybe Sherlock has sentiment for him...That it wasn't one sided. Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Lestrade, Irene Adler, Mary and even bloody Moriarty have seen it! Is it possible that I was so blind?_

"And I'm not accepting that as one of my many faults anyway! No way! The first time I had a real conversation with Sherlock, he told me that he was flattered, but not interested, and married to his work!" 

"Sherlock has always been slow with sentiment... But you were living together after 24 hours of meeting! It's kind of a fast track for a relationship, no?" Greg was now earnestly smiling while drinking his beer.

"Anyway, all this was BEFORE! Sherlock doesn't know me anymore, case closed. What's next now? Is everything over?" 

"Magnussen." Greg accepted the temporary switch in the discussion. "He's threatening Sherlock and Mycroft to reveal everything that he did while destroying Moriarty's empire... We are coming up with a good plan, but they don't tell me everything. You know how they are."

"So you're good friends with Mycroft now... Is there anything you wish to tell me?"  _Time to reverse the table, gotcha!_

"I've never hidden the fact that I went out with men prior my marriage... and now that I am free, who knows.  He's a special man..."

"It's good... as long as you know in what you are getting yourself. The Holmes brothers are not easy."

"But  _yours_  loves you... don't ever doubt of that. Even if currently it's hard, it won't last. Mycroft is trying to find a solution to trigger his memories... And if it's impossible, who can say the two of you can't start over and do it right this time? I think currently he is at least curious, which is good."

"I'm nobody... just an old soldier... my ex-wife shot him, a bit of a mood killer, right? Besides all of this is wishful thinking. He NEVER made a move on me before."

"Maybe he was shy and unsure of how you would respond... But who am I to know? I'm not the one who has spent years screaming 'Not gay' while pining for my flat mate slash best friend!"

"Shut up, Greg. I'm going to get the next round."

The deep sound of Lestrade's laughter follows him all the way to the bar while he was thinking of how tactile Sherlock was, always taking his hand, touching his arm, staying unusually close to him... Nearly close enough to kiss... and his eyes...  _Oh God I'm in trouble!_

 

 _   _  

"Appledore, John!"

Sherlock's exclamation brings John back to reality. He looks at his friend with a renewed curiosity.  _Is it possible I was so blind?_  He asked himself for the thousandth time in the last days.

Appledore was a massive modern house in the middle of a gigantic field.  "The perfect fortress for a blackmailer... Don't you think John?" After a pause, he adds "I know it will be hard for you to be there today. Magnussen will probably try to anger you with information about your wif... Ms. Morstan." 

"I understand that, don't worry. But it's very considerate of you to warn me."

"Errr... yeah. It's just that... all this business I found it very sad... What I'm trying to say is that I don't blame you for her actions, you know, the part where your wife nearly killed me."  Sherlock was unusually unsettled. He was trying to concentrate on Magnussen, on the case, the chase, but he was unable to fully stay focused. He puts on gloves and wipes the computer clean. 

The conversation comes to an end, as the helicopter lands near the house.  A man is waiting for them and, after confirmation of their identities they are led to the house where the businessman was waiting for them. The meeting took place in a large sitting room.   _Too modern for my taste, cold... But it suits the bastard!_ John thought.  Magnussen was already there, a drink in his hand.

"I would offer you a drink but it’s very rare and expensive."

Sherlock and John take their places on the sofa beside Magnussen, Sherlock put the computer on the sofa and remove his coat, gloves and scarf.  A big TV is playing images in a loop, John's eyes are drawn to the movement when he realizes what was playing on the screen.

"It  _was_  YOU!" The doctor stands up and moves closer to the screen.  

"Yes, of course." A debonair Magnussen replies while taking a sip from his glass.

The footage was from the bonfire... when Sherlock rescues him.   _Oh God... It's been so long. Before all this, before the wedding, before he forgot me..._  He forces down the tears that where threatening to pearl at the corner of his eyes and looks at his friend. Sherlock was confused, not knowing what to think of the scene.   _It's me... and the doctor... and Mary but, but I don't know... I ...I_

The image then shifts to a scene from John and Mary's wedding.  _They look so happy and carefree..._ The focus changes to show Sherlock in morning suit, giving his best man speech, Janine sitting right beside him.  _Bile was rising in Sherlock throat... It isn't possible, how could I forget?_ A flash of Janine going on about how they had danced together at a wedding, the many times John's, Lestrade and Mycroft gazes have been on him full of concern... But it's impossible... He tries to go in his Mind Palace but he isn’t able to concentrate... Too much data...Too complicated...  

John tries to pull Sherlock's intense focus far from the images replaying over and over. He was afraid that it was too much to process without psychological help. Or Mycroft. Or both...

"It was very hard to find a real pressure point on you, Mr. Holmes. You're so careless about yourself and you have little use for the opinions of others... Not the kind to commit suicide like that wuss Smallwood."

But Sherlock was still looking at the footage, not listening at all to either John or Magnussen, trying to understand what it all meant. John moves closer to the detective, in an attempt to distract him. "Sherlock, are you alright? Come with me, don't watch that... we'll talk later." He murmured to his friend.

Magnussen is still talking, too full of himself to realize the crisis John was dealing with. "The drug thing I never believed for a moment. Anyway, you wouldn’t care if it was exposed, would you?" He turns his shark eyes to the screen. "But look how you care about John Watson... Your damsel in distress."

John is furious, forgetting a moment Sherlock's turmoil, he lashes out at Magnussen _. "_ You put me in a fire for leverage?"

"Oh, I’d never let you burn, Doctor Watson. I had people standing by. I’m not a murderer... unlike your lovely wife." He stands up to looks in the eyes of the detective. "And all that for nothing... I've observed you both in the last month; you don't have the same relationship as you had before.  I'm sorry John, but I don't think Mr. Holmes really cares if your life is miserable right now."  He laughs, "It's probably linked to the fact that your devoted little wife tried to kill him. I don't have friends, but I'm quite certain there is an unwritten 'buddy's law' against that."

John tries to block out everything the bastard was saying. It was true in a sense of course, Sherlock may hate him for that. But as long as his Mind Palace problem remains unresolved it's impossible to know what the Old Sherlock thinks about John's assassin wife.  If they need to start anew, there's no guarantee that the detective will choose to become friends with him because of what Mary had done.   He turns his gaze in Sherlock's direction. He was still watching the TV with an anxious and troubled face. 

 _"_ But... maybe I was wrong." Magnussen murmures, his attention now on the detective, realizes the level of attention he was giving to the footage... A smile appears on his thin lips.

"Let me explain how leverage works, Doctor Watson." He took the TV remote to shut down the screen and regain Sherlock's interest. "For those who understand these things, Mycroft Holmes is the most powerful man in the country. Well ... apart from me." Sherlock's attention had shifted once again back to Magnussen, the doubt and questions about the images are in the background for now. "Mycroft’s pressure point is his junkie detective brother, Sherlock." He points at Sherlock. "And Sherlock’s pressure point is his best friend, John Watson." At this statement, Sherlock flinches. Magnussen finger moves then from Sherlock to John... "John Watson’s pressure point is still his wife. The havoc that woman can create in all of your lives if I go to press with everything I know! This is why I owned John Watson’s wife ... Poor Mary, not only did she want to get the info about her to avoid Sherlock discovering them, but he was the reason why I gathered the files about her in the first place, to finally have something on Sherlock.  Poor little thing, double crossed by her husband's...  _best-friend_."  

The tone of Magnussen's voice and his reptilian snerr when he said "best-friend" was nearly enough for John to finally jump on him and end all this nonsense right now. But it was not the time. 

"And with the sum of everything, I own Mycroft." He sits down with a satisfactory smile. "He’s what I’m getting for Christmas."

Sherlock looks at the laptop. "It’s an exchange, not a gift."

"Forgive me, but I already seem to have it." Magnussen puts the laptop on his chest, brushing his fingers on it like a caress.

"It’s password protected and encrypted. In return for the password, you will give me any material in your possession regarding the woman we know as Mary Watson, including what she discovered about the work I did in order to destroy Moriarty's web."

"Oh, she’s bad, that one. So many dead people. You should see what I’ve seen."

"I don’t  _need_  to see it." John says with a clip tone. 

"You might enjoy it, though.  _I_  enjoy it. And that's not all... Maybe I can interested you in a list of the kills your friend is responsible for?" John whitened, but do not reply.

After few minutes of silence, Sherlock asks, "If you're so eager, why don’t you  _show_  us?"

"Show you Appledore? The secret vaults? Is that what you want?"

"I  _want_  everything you’ve got on US!" His tone was now hard.

Magnussen lets go a little laugh, clearly not impressed in the least.  John watches Sherlock, not understanding the reaction of the blackmailer.  

A moment later, the sniggering stops.  Magnussen takes the laptop in his hand once more "You know, I honestly expect something good on that and not sudoku and the link to a Netflix account."

Sherlock, now more confident, retorts, "Oh, I think you’ll find the contents of that laptop ..."

"... include a GPS locator. By now, your brother will have noticed the theft, and security services will be converging on this house. Having arrived they’ll find top-secret information in my hands and have every justification to search my vaults. They will discover further information of this kind and I’ll be imprisoned. Nobody will ever know what you've done in Europe and you will be restored to your smelly little flat to solve crimes with the good doctor. And the little secret of your brother... will remain secret. Has he never spoken to you about Sherrinford?"

Lifting his glass to his mouth, he explains rather nonchalantly, "Mycroft has been looking for this opportunity for a long time. He’ll be a very,  _very_  proud big brother if you can bring me down."

 _"_ The fact that you recognize it’s going to happen isn’t going to stop it." 

John was puzzled by the exchange. _I'm missing something and I don't like the feeling._

"If I've lost, then why am I smiling? Ask me."

John walks near the scheming man, "WHY are you smiling?"

"Because Sherlock Holmes has made one  _enormous_  mistake which will destroy the lives of everyone he loves ... and everything he holds dear." He gets up from the sofa and his gaze focuses on the detective with calm confidence. "Let me show you the Appledore vaults."

He leads the two men across the room until they reach a study.  Inside the study, he walks to a set of wooden doors. He turns to regain eye contact with Sherlock Holmes.  _Oh, this is going to be delicious._  "The entrance to my vaults. This is where I keep you all under my thumb." He turns back to the door handles and pulls the doors open with a flourish. It is empty, the only exception, a single chair.

Sherlock looks at Magnussen, understanding instantly. It has always been one of the possibilities. 

"Okay – so where are the vaults, then?" John didn't realize what they where dealing with.

"Vaults?  _What_  vaults? There are no vaults beneath this building. They’re all in here!" He gestures to the room then points his temple... "The Appledore vaults are my Mind Palace. You know about Mind Palaces, don’t you, Sherlock? How to store information so you never forget it – by picturing it. I just sit here, I close my eyes and down I go to my vaults... I can go anywhere inside my vaults... my memories."

"So there are no documents. You don’t actually have anything here." John asks just to be 100% percent that he understands.

"Oh, sometimes I send out for something if I really need it but mostly I just remember it all."

"I don’t understand."  _How can you threaten someone with air!_

"You should have that on a T-shirt." Magnussen smiles again, clearly having a lovely time playing with the doctor.

"You just remember it all?"

"It’s all about knowledge.  _Everything_  is. Knowing is owning."

"But if you just  _know_  it, then you don’t have proof."  _Come on Sherlock, say something! You've got a fucking Master degree in Mind Palace stuffs!_ But Sherlock was unable to return to the situation in hand, his mind trying to fill the missing gaps between the footage and his memories. He pushes his question away but with the mention of Mind Palaces, his doubts came back with force! Anyway, the plan was going on has planned, so the actual situation was boring.  _I am missing something, what? WHAT?_  

"Proof? What would I need proof for? I’m in news, you moron. I don’t have to prove it – I just have to print it." He steps out of the room. "Speaking of news, you’ll both be heavily featured tomorrow – trying to sell state secrets to me! Tut tut tut." He looks at his watch."Let’s go outside. They’ll be here shortly. Can’t wait to see you arrested." He walks happily toward the front door.

John asks quietly. "Sherlock, do we have a plan?"  But his friend was once more lost in his thoughts... "SHERLOCK!" 

Not answering, Sherlock follows Magnussen outside where he was looking at the sky expectantly.  _"_ They’re taking their time, aren’t they?" _Yeah, a little fashionably late Mycroft... and they say I am the Drama Queen in the family._

"I still don’t understand." An exasperated doctor mutters, loud enough to be heard by Magnussen.

"And there’s the  _back_  of the T-shirt."

 _"But_  you just  _know_  things. How does  _that_  work?"  _And why the fuck does Sherlock stay silent!_

 _"_ I just  _love_  your little soldier face. I’d like to punch it." He places one of his hands near John's face. The doctor stares back, not knowing what to do.

That was enough to wake up Sherlock from his near trance "Let him alone, you've got something against the Holmes' brothers, not John Watson." 

With a laugh, Magnussen looks at Sherlock as if he were a child, who couldn't understand basic maths. "You don't understand how all this works either, do you? I want to pressure  _you_ , not John Watson. I don't care about John Watson, he's a THING, to use as a bargaining chip. It's only leverage. He's little more than a chess piece that I can move in order to move a project in the direction I want..." He rotates to be near John again. 

 _"_ Bring it over here a minute. Come on." John looks at Sherlock with despair. Not able to meets his eyes, Sherlock only nods.  _They're so choice; we have to buy time... I'm so sorry. So sorry._  

"For Mary. Bring me your face. Or every little secret, all the murders and torture sessions that Mary told me about is going to be on the front page tomorrow morning." John looks at Magnussen with disgust but complies... 

 _"_ Lean forward a bit and stick your face out... Please?" After John obeys, he chuckles harshly. "Now, can I flick it? Can I flick your face?"

Sherlock face wasn't looking at John, the anger, the feeling of being unable to avoid the humiliation of the doctor... of his... friend. The image of the bonfire, the look on his face when he runs to save the doctor... The speech at the wedding... It was HIM on the footage, there's no advantage for Magnussen to create the image...  _It's got to be real!_ Turning his face to finally witness John's humiliation, the sacrifice he was making to protect Sherlock. To try to prevent Sherlock's life from becoming a never-ending war against an army of enemies willing to risk everything to avenge what the detective's vendetta deprived them of...  Something broke inside him. A gate that had been closed up tight opened and the memories started flowing.

_Mary... Mary was trying to keep John away from Sherlock's awareness but to no avail. John pushed her away and was now running back to his rightful place. The meeting, the cabby, the discussion about body parts in the fridge, a staggering amount of tea made just right, a summons to eat, to sleep... The return after the years in Europe... John's fists that first night, the bonfire, the laughter in the tube car, the doubts about Mary but the overwhelming desire, his wish for John to be happy, the best man speech... And the emotions follow: Friendship, sadness, desire, love, trust... JOHN!_

Trying to keep an eye on Sherlock,  _even if it was hard to when an arsehole is flicking his finger at your face!,_ John saw a change in Sherlock's behavior.  His stance changes, his face became assertive, all the doubts and confusion now gone. He was looking at what was going on between John and Magnussen with disgust and undisguised loathing.

Looking at the doctor with a jubilatory smile, Magnussen didn't realize the shift in Sherlock manners. He continued, flicking his finger at the end of each sentence, like a point. "I just  _love_  doing this. I could do it all day. It works like this, John. I know who Sherlock hurt and killed. I know where to find people who hate him.  I know where they live. I know their phone numbers. All in my Mind Palace –  _all_  of it.  I could phone them right now and tear your whole life down – and I  _will_ unless you let me flick your face. This is what I do to people. This is what I do to whole countries ... just because I  _know."_ He bends down to look at John directly in his eyes. "Can I do your eye now? See if you can keep it open, hmm? Come on. For Sherlock. Keep it open."

"STOP!" Both John and Magnussen turn toward Sherlock. 

"There’s nothing to be done, Holmes! Oh, I’m not a villain. I have no evil plan. I’m a businessman, acquiring assets.  _You_  happen to be one of them! And to get you. I. NEED. JOHN. WATSON."

"Sherlock? It's... OK. I can do it.. For you."

"John..." Sherlock says with all the care he can put in such a small name. "JOHN!" He repeats more forcefully.

"Come on. Open your eye." 

But before Magnussen can pursue his little game, the noise of an approaching helicopter can be heard.  Armed security men run to stop near the patio and spotlights were aimed directly towards them.  John looks at Sherlock with a glimpse of hope.  In the night, Mycroft's voice blares out on a speaker attached to the helicopter. 

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, stand away from that man. This is a dangerous situation!"

Magnussen, with a grin of victory "Here we go, Mr. Holmes!"

"To clarify: Appledore’s vaults only exist in your mind, nowhere else, just there?" Sherlock asks, nearly screaming to be heard above the noise of the engine.

"They’re not real. They never  _have_  been. You've lost!"

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Step  _away._ Let us deal with this."

"It’s fine! They’re harmless!" An overconfident Magnussen reacts to Mycroft's command.

"Mr. Magnussen, put your hands in the air!"

At that order, Magnussen looks lost for words. Not understanding what is happening... For the first time in a long time he feels that he's not in control. A team of armed man were heading for him.  

"Magnussen, I strongly suggest for you to obey!" Mycroft loud voice resonates all over the field.

"But, but, you've got NOTHING on me!"

"Ah... but we have." Sherlock says with a smile. "The computer, you should have been more vigilant and asked someone competent to look at it..."

"It's your brother's computer, you've the one who gave it to me! Sorry. No chance for you to be a hero  _this_  time, Mr. Holmes... You've got nothing! This is absurd!"

"Tsk Magnussen. You know how it works; you only need an idea... And a headline." Talking really low for the blackmailer's ears only... "and maybe we gave you a computer with some sensitive data on a few politicians and the Queen. It wasn't bright to touch it like you did, your digital prints are all over it." 

"It's impossible. This is UTTERLY absurd!"

"You should start a t-shirt store with John, Mr. Magnussen... But I don't thing this is a good idea for my  _best-friend_  to be associated with a man like you."

At this word, John realizes that Sherlock's memory was on the mend...  _Oh my God, I can't believe it!_ He looks at his friend with the biggest smile since he can't even remember when!   _A lot of discussion, maybe a fight or two, but it's bloody PERFECT._

"All good, John?"

"Bloody brilliant!"

The armed men were now into position, surrounding Magnussen house. The man couldn't go anywhere.

Looking at Sherlock with a decided move, Magnussen tries one last card. "Prison won't stop me, Mr. Holmes... I want to make a deal with you. Find a way to turn this situation around and I'll forget everything I have about Mary, Mycroft and you. Everything."

"Do not try to trick me, it won’t work. I am here to retrieve the information you've got on the Prime Minister, not to help you escape justice!" Sherlock makes sure to speak loudly enough and with a shocking tone to be heard by the policemen nearby. John tries to keep a straight face as long as possible, but it was difficult. The joy of having back Sherlock and the great false outraged look he was pulling for the show were too funny!

"THEN I WILL DESTROY YOU ALL!"

As soon as the last word was spoken, one of the sniper jumps in front of Magnussen and screams, "NO. YOU. WON'T!" raises their gun, aims it in the direction of the businessman head and fires.  

The gunman is captured before the dead man falls on the deck. The balaclava was quickly pull out to reveal a mop of blond hair... Mary.

John walks to her, completely bemused while Mycroft voice screams to his man. "Oh my God, she escaped from her cell! HOLD HER TIGHTLY! John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, for your security take your distance from Mary Morstan!"

Sherlock puts his hand on John's arm and pulls him away from the mess.  Before he becomes out of reach, he hears Mary soft "I love you so much... be safe now."    

Mycroft Holmes finally reaches the terrace.  Looking at his brother and John, he asks, "How are you?" with a perceptive gaze. 

"Everything is as it should be. But you are late." Sherlock responds with a grinning doctor by his side, still angry that John had to be humiliated while waiting for his brother to finally showed up.

"Good. I'm happy to heard that." A satisfied smile spread over the face of the normally stoic man, the menace on the good doctor was a part of his scheme to bring back Sherlock memories. B _ut he doesn't need to know that for now.._. 

"Are you? You have always been keen to talk against... sentiment. What is the cause of this change in heart? Or maybe... who?" 

"Not a good time to be yourself, brother mine." With sigh of relief he adds, "Everything went as it should. This is a great success. I will personally ask for your knighthood this time I think."  

"Except for the unexpected appearance of Mary Morstan! Of course, I hope none has been injured in her escape."

"No, it's ok, the two guards where only sleeping... someone had probably added something to their coffee. I will have to make inquiries... more paperwork but it's fine." 

"I'm sure you'll be able to cope..."

"Let's go home, everyone is about to wake up... All this to avoid a difficult conversation with Mommy because we're working on December 25th!"  _And wanting to Gregory to be there, but not be here... All this sentiment is complicated._

"Stop sighing, it doesn't suits you. John, do you want to join us for Christmas dinner?"

 

_* _

_   _

Few days later John and Sherlock where picked up by Mycroft's chauffeur for an unknown destination. They stop at a small airfield, with only one runway.  A van was already there, near a small military aircraft.

"What's that Mycroft?" John asks, still not fond of Sherlock's brother... 

At the sign of his boss, one of the security men that surrounds the van opens the door to let a handcuffed Mary outside. 

"What's all this, brother?"

"A gift for you both..."

 

Mary, dressed in black, looks tired but peaceful. Not letting her out of their sights, the security allows her to go near John and Sherlock.  The detective, for once aware that John must finish this on his own, walks away from his friend to stand beside his brother.  

He discretely voices his concern,  "I don't know if I must thank you or kill you Mycroft."  

"You can decide later, brother mine, but you should have faith in your doctor. He's a good man."

"Is this an approbation on whatever may follow? Except you may have just ruined everything with that unusual trace of humanity and foolishness you are currently showing?" Sherlock was tense with anxiety...  _What if John took pity on Mary and... No I shouldn't think like that!_

"Everything is going to be all right. You both deserve peace and... Happiness."

"What going on with you? Happiness??" Sherlock looks at his older brother with incredulity. It quickly changes in a more playful mood. "Have you stopped dieting or this new you solely due to the influence of Lestrade?"

"Shut up, Sherlock!" But a crooked smile was slowly appearing on his brother's face.

 

Mary stands silently in front of John, storing in his mind everything. His hair, his face, his eyes...  _I'm so sorry._

"John..."

"What should I call you?" John replies aggressively.

"You still can think about me as Mary..."

"You real name."

"... Rosamund."

"Ok."  _Rosamund, such a delicate name._

"John... I just want you to know that..."

"No needs, I've listened to your interrogation.  I know everything."

"... So you know that I loved, love, you."

"Yeah. In your twisted way probably. Can't say it's comforting right now."

"I shouldn't have shot Sherlock... John I'm.. I'm sorry... I have never said that to Mycroft, but I want you to know..." Her eyes were now full of tears, but John was in a full 'soldier mode', not letting emotion get the better of him. "It's just that the jealousy, the disgust of what you had been through because of him was too much so when the opportunity arose I... " Realizing too late that the justification was only getting the doctor angrier, she stops and simply had. "I hope you find happiness now, not the mere shadow I was able to give you."

"I will, do not worry. And for the record, Sherlock is not the one who put me through grief and depression. It was Moriarty and his... associates."

  He gives her a cold look, and turns away from her. Nothing remains of John's relationship with the woman formerly known as Mary Watson... 

 

While walking toward the plane, Mary stops close to Sherlock. John, as well as the security, is on edge. The image of his best friend, ( _my love? my whole life_?) in a pool of blood in Magnussen office, still fresh in his mind.  

Sherlock raises a hand... "It's ok... I can talk to her." Looking in John's worried eyes "Don't worry, everything is fine. Give us space... please."  

The flicker of an emotion pass through Mary's eyes, "The game is over, Sherlock. You won. You  _will_  look after him, won’t you? Don't make me regret all this." Mary hastily asks Sherlock. Knowing they don't have a lot of time.

"Oh don’t worry. I’ll keep him entertained... And protect him from those that would wish to harm him." 

"Because you owe me, you know it's true..."

"Whatever your past was, I can't deny that your love and constant awareness of John saved his life.  For that I can only be eternally indebted." After a pause he continues "But you did shoot me, then tried to finish the job. That, even if I understand your state of mind, I don't think I can overlook... Even with your last attempt to gain his pardon."

"And I don't think he will ever forgive me as long as he lives..." Her head was now turned in the direction of John who was few meters away. Not listening to the actual conversation, but near enough to protect Sherlock.  _As if I have the force to do something..._

"So what about you, then? Where are you actually going now? Mycroft was as secretive as always."

"Oh, some undercover work in Eastern Europe. A job you refused it seems..."

"Ah... Six months then, my brother estimates. He’s never wrong."

"Yes. And after, I will... be...."

"I see..."

"It's ok, it's more than I deserved. The chance to redeem myself one more time."

Sherlock extends his hand toward her cuffed ones for an awkward handshake.

"You've been a worthy opponent Mary..." adding as if granting a wish to a criminal making her final walk. " _Watson._ "

With a last sad smile, Mary is returned to the plane for a trip from where she will never return.

 

Walking back to John, Sherlock and the doctor look at each other with a renewed appreciation. Much will need to be discussed, but the last weeks apart have strangely brought them closer... 

"Dinner?" John asks.

"Angelo'?"

"Yes, great!"  _And Angelo can put has many candles he wants on the table!_

 

Their mind already focused on what may be a new step for their relationship, they nearly didn't understand Mycroft screaming "Sherlock!" at the top of his lungs.  _Well, this is unusual, my brother hates screaming._

Mycroft was near the opened door of his car, looking at a small TV monitor speaking into his mobile. "It's all over the country, how this is possible? HE IS DEAD!" Mycroft's voice was oscillating between annoyance and horror.

"Sherlock, you’re needed right now."

“Can't we have a break?...Who needs _us_  this time?"

Following his brother's shaky finger that points directly to a small TV monitor in the car, the detective sees a well known face saying, "Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me?" over and over, while Mycroft states with a sigh. "England."

 

Fin! 

**Author's Note:**

> The idea behind this fic comes from a post in Tumblr that I can't found anymore! The suggestion was "What if Sherlock erase John from his memory?"
> 
> Thanks to the marvelous Ariane De Vere for the transcript of the dialog of S3.3 [here](http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/) (I change it to fit my storyline of course!) If you haven't read them you should, it's perfect!
> 
> And many many thanks again to [notjustmom](http://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom/) for the beta-ification!
> 
> *
> 
> Please leave kudos or comments to let me know I didn't lost your attention somewhere after the first chapter and that you've made it to the end lol 
> 
> It's only my second fic so I'm still pretty insecure on the pertinence of adding my voice to an already gargantuous volume of Sherlock's fanfics :-)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Conversation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10993236) by [notjustmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom)
  * [Silent Talking](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777324) by [MorganeUK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganeUK/pseuds/MorganeUK)




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